Applaud in Failure and Success: There Will Be a Reckoning
by dislocation
Summary: [Part Two] Nadia is alive, and has her memories back, but everything is far from alright. Simon is gone. Her own mind is a stranger, a constant state of chaos. She barely feels like herself. What will she do when a face from the past comes back to haunt her? The existence of mutants is slowly becoming the front page news and the world is in an uproar.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well this took a lot longer than expected. Again, I'm sorry.  
This is a sequel to 'Applaud in Failure and Success'. God, what made me choose that name? Don't be surprised if I randomly change it when I find a better one. Like I mentioned in the A/N in the story before this, this won't be long. I am aiming for ten or so chapters, but I guess I'll see how it goes.  
Anyways, without further ado, here's the much awaited (not really) sequel.**

* * *

_I gasped, pulling my hand out of Charles's grip. His smile fell, but all I could do was stare at him with wide eyes. My lips trembled, my lungs burning, demanding for me to breathe. I did, taking in a shaky breath only for my throat to clamp shut and I heaved, choking._

_Faces. So many faces, and so many words._

_So much pain._

_One of the kids opened their mouth but I was jumping over the back of the seat, rushing out of the diner and into the street, collapsing against the wall. People passing-by gave me curious looks, but didn't move to help me. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers threading themselves in my hair as I groaned out in pain and slid down until I rested on the dusty pavement, my knees drawn to my chest._

_Everything. I remembered everything. And suddenly, I wished that I hadn't._

_A pair of hands rested on my shoulders and I looked up to see the blonde of the group look down at me with worried eyes. Alex. Glimpses of memories flashed in my mind as I gripped the front of his leather jacket and he pulled me up to my feet as the other two people left the diner and approached us hesitantly. I scanned the side of his face and winced again. Red rings, a statue cut in half and a brooding expression. Alex yelled at me in protest as I told him to get to the shore and I recalled his betrayed expression when I threw him off the ship and he fell before being caught and carried away by Sean._

_I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to the youngest of the trio. His hair just as unruly as I remembered. He gave me a hesitant smile, one that widened when I said his name. "Sean."_

_The teenager leapt forward and threw his arms around me, almost making me stumble back into a wall. Alex took a step to the side, nervously wringing his hands together. But his back straightened and he visibly relaxed. I winced when Sean squeezed my shoulders and I was reminded of the injuries._

_After a moment he pulled back, and I saw the tears in his eyes. He let out strangled laugh and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I- We thought you were dead."_

"_I did too, for a while," I admitted. His expression fell and he was hugging me again._

"_Sean, give her a chance to breathe. You are making her injuries worse."_

_Sean pulled away, only to give the man in the wheelchair a look of disbelief. "She's alive! She's actually alive. And she remembers me!"_

_A small pat on my shoulder made me turn to my side and I saw Alex offering me a soft smile. I gave one in return, painfully aware that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. My head was ringing and I threw my arm – as much as it pained me to do so – around his waist and buried my head in his chest in a hug. He returned it, wrapping his arms around me carefully before pulling away. He inclined his head to the man behind me and I slowly turned to him, glad that Alex kept his arm on me because I was sure I would fall back down on the ground without the support._

_Charles looked up at me, and in that wheelchair he looked vulnerable in such a way that I've never seen him before. He lost so much more than just the use of his legs and that in itself was a surprise. Well, it _should _have been a surprise._

"_I'm sorry if you're in pain right now," he spoke, his voice sounding more aged since I last heard it. He had not taken all that happened well, even if he tried to disguise it. "I never really unlocked somebody's memories before. I'm not sure how well I did."_

"_You did well," I gave him a smile and a nod. "I remember everything." _

_His expression fell, a frown pulling at his lips. He searched my face and his eyes widened. "Everything?"_

_A series of scenes flashed in my head. Erik with his hands outstretched towards the missiles, wearing Shaw's helmet. Charles crying out in pain when the bullet met his spine and he collapsed to the ground. The group of mutants clad in yellow and black bodysuits screaming out my name in horror and they faced the dark ocean. Simon pressing a kiss against Raven's temple as the mutants, holding hands, vanished from sight in a cloud of red smoke. _

_I bit my lip, forcing the thoughts of Simon out of my head. Trying to stomp down the rising and burning feeling of betrayal. I nodded, pulling Sean towards me in another hug, and he complied without hesitation._

"_I remember."_

A pair of footsteps broke my concentration and the large block of water fell down into the pool, losing its shape mid-fall and splashing water over the edges. I cursed, looking down at my soaked clothes and turned over my shoulder to give the unwelcome presence a pointed glare.

Charles smiled sheepishly at having been caught, his wheelchair moving silently forward until it stopped just outside the puddle on the cold tiles. "You need to work on your concentration."

I frowned, turning back to the pool and rose to my feet, picking at the wet fabric that clung to my legs. "You need to work on announcing your presence." I turned around and smirked, folding my arms over my chest. "Seriously, you're in a wheelchair. How on earth can it even be possible for you to sneak up on me?"

He offered me a wide grin, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. I saved the expression to memory, knowing such smiles, at the moment, very rarely came from him. "With lots of practice. Besides," he inclined his head towards the swimming pool, "you were quite busy."

My smirk fell and I looked down at my feet, rubbing the back of my neck. I flinched when my fingers made contact with the scarred flesh.

Charles seemed to notice my expression and cleared his throat. "Anyways, I was here to tell you that Sean and Alex have been planning to go into town tomorrow after training. They've asked me to see whether you'd like to join them." Suddenly, guilt crossed his face. "Well, they didn't ask, I overheard…"

I couldn't help but a crack a smile and took a few steps towards him, nodding. "Sure. Should I tell them now?"

The professor gave me a strange look. "It's 2am, Nadia. They've gone to bed."

"Oh." I looked away, but couldn't find it in myself to feel embarrassed. Losing track of time has become so common to me that I didn't even acknowledge it anymore. Still, I mumbled an apology. "Sorry."

Charles searched my face before turning his wheelchair around, rolling out of the large room and towards the elevator. "Well, let them know tomorrow."

I nodded, watching him leave, smelling a faint smell of whiskey as he left. Ah. That explained why he didn't seem up for a conversation – he was lost in his own memories.

I turned back to the pool and taking in a deep breath, raised my hand, beginning to clean up the mess I made. Soon enough, every drop was returned to the hole in the ground and I nodded in satisfaction before drying my clothes. I stretched my arms high above my head before my hands lowered to cover my mouth as I yawned.

Rubbing my eyes, I decided to go to bed, silently hoping that there would be no nightmares that night.

After being metaphorically brought back from the dead, I lied to Charles, even if I wasn't aware that I _was _lying at the time. I didn't just remember everything – I remembered too much.

I first realised that when I dreamt of Charles with his arms around Erik, the both of them just above the water's surface, the telepath telling the mutant beside him to let Shaw go. Because he wasn't strong enough and he would die, trying to accomplish an impossible task.

It startled me, mostly because not only was I not there when Charles and Erik first met, I wasn't even told about it, let alone the minute details as such.

When Charles returned my memories – or unlocked them, as he preferred to say – it was incredibly painful. All that information filling the empty corners of darkness to the point where they burst. They don't flick past like a movie. No, they bombard my head with clashing information all at once until I felt like my head was going to burst. Hence why I had to run out of the diner before I freaked everyone out with my screaming - or worse, accidentally revealed that I was a mutant.

As if the shock of that alone wasn't enough, soon I realised that I knew far more than I initially thought.

I remembered everything that had happened to me. From the few pleasant memories of my family to the day of the Cuban Missile Crisis. But I also, remembered things that I shouldn't have had any knowledge of. I knew how Charles and Erik met and often whispered snippets of their private conversations interrupted my thoughts at the most random of times and places.

I was sparring with Alex – slowly getting an upper hand too – when I was suddenly aware that when Moira first approached Charles to help with a secret CIA operation, he was already half-drunk and thought she was flirting with him. Now it was not just highly unlikely for me to know that – it was impossible. Moira and I never exchanged more than a few words and Charles had already wiped her memory before he had found that I was alive and he himself never told me of that meeting. The moment of distraction was enough for Alex to gain the upper hand who, only after tackling me to the grass in the back yard, realised that something was wrong. I never told him the truth, but I felt like he suspected that not everything was back to normal. He was more observant than he looked.

Now _that _was one of the rather pleasant - and amusing - memories.

It was much harder to appear normal when I was reliving the shock, betrayal and sadness he felt when Erik had shown his true face. The intentions that Charles knew all along were there, but was trying to convince himself that Erik wouldn't go through with it. As satisfying as it was to know that Shaw was dead, I didn't particularly want to experience the pain of the coin moving through my brain while I was trying to pour myself a glass of orange juice.

I could only come to the conclusion that somehow, unwillingly, Charles transferred some of his memories to me.

I never told Charles any of this, especially since he already had so much going on in his head.

As did I.

I missed Simon terribly. But for some reason, it wasn't him that occupied most of my thoughts. It was Erik, and honestly, half the time I blamed the telepath.

Erik Lehnsherr was the lord of magnetism manipulation, magnetic force fields and magnetic flight – a string of words that Sean used to describe him once, pretending to be reading it out of a textbook with a mock-serious voice. The kid despised him, something that troubled me.

As mocking as his words were, however, they were true. Erik's intellect rivalled Charles's, and he was proven to be a skilled leader and a strategists already – we have tried for months but failed to trace the origins and destination of even the most obvious of footsteps left by him. He was completely under the radar and Charles was convinced that he was planning something. After all, as much as it pained him to admit it, they were on different sides now.

But I wasn't too concerned. When Erik hit, we would know. All I wanted to do was to learn to control my powers - apparently getting my memories back didn't restore that particular problem - I had to start basically from square one - so I wouldn't accidentally commit mass homicide but I always found it a little hard to concentrate.

I couldn't get him out of my head and I had no idea why.

Was it admiration? I could clearly remember him lifting a 30,000 ton nuclear submarine, both of our faces red with concentration. But in one particular dream he simply waved his hand and the submarine effortlessly rose from the ocean. As if it was nothing more than a party trick.

I tried to block such thoughts out, especially now that he wasn't even around here anymore. It was strange, how I knew him for such a short amount of time but missed him as if I have known him for years.

I never brought up my unwanted memories to Charles, and neither did I mention _that._ No matter how much I wanted to let him know that he wasn't the only one that felt the hole Erik's absence left behind.

We avoided mentioning his name at first. It was clear to me that even though _months _have passed before they found me, Charles was still trying to deal with all that happened. It hurt for him to think of his old friend. The man who would still be welcomed with open arms if he decided to come back, even though he left us behind to pursue a similar cause but in a completely wrong way. As would Raven and Simon.

Hank – who spent most of his time in the lab, as always – Sean and Alex quickly accepted the fact that Magneto left. They were young and in their eyes he was the enemy. But I understood the longing look on Charles's face that he would direct at the windows of his home, or when I would find him in the drawing room with a chessboard before him. I had the same look whenever I thought of Simon.

I tripped on a carpet and managed to catch myself against the table at the last second, avoiding a painful – and potentially loud – fall on the floor. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, remaining hunched over the old piece of furniture as I steadied my breathing.

It's been a long time since Simon entered my head.

At first, I thought of him every day, every little thing in my surroundings somehow tied to the man I considered – and always would, different sides or not – a brother. When Alex trampled down the stairs one morning, a smile pulling at his lips that indicated he had a good night's sleep, instead of commenting how well his new jacket look on him, instead I was reminded of how whenever Simon thought I was cold he would throw the coat around my shoulders no matter how much I protested. He would rather have me be sweating like a pig before he allowed even the slightest presence of goose bumps on my skin.

But then, I thought of him less and less, to the point where I haven't even remembered he existed for _weeks._ Until Sean and I were watching an episode of The Andy Griffith Show in the living room to drown out the thunder outside and the teenager fiddled with a strand of his hair before turning to me and asking me if I could cut his hair for him.

A feeling like déjà vu hit me and I only realised I was almost crying when Sean freaked out, repeatedly asking what was is that he said wrong.

It was hard, knowing that he was not there. That he was gone, just as Erik and Raven were gone when Charles needed them. If I had a nightmare, I couldn't go to his room and bother him until he woke up, and cheered me up with terrible jokes even if he hadn't slept for days. His room was empty.

"Hey," a voice greeted me and I looked up to see Hank, dressed in a white shirt secured with a striped tie and brown trousers. "I didn't realise anyone was still up."

I straightened up, managing a weak smile. His blue form was always a welcomed sight for sore eyes, even if he himself still tended to be a little ashamed of it. As much as he disliked Raven's parting words, I hoped that he was slowly starting to believe them. Sean and Alex didn't look at him any different than before, if anything, they never failed to mention that he looked 'cool'. And I agreed.

There was only one thing that wasn't cool about Hank, and it was his glasses. He was still trying to find the right pair, and the current ones rested too low on his nose and dug into his temples.

"Shouldn't _you _be in bed?" I shot back, placing my hands on my hips.

He only smiled and held up a clipboard with at least a dozen pages in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. "I was working."

Of course. He was always working. I frowned but nodded. "Well, make sure to get some rest."

He lowered his hands and took a sip of his drink. "I will," he promised. I accepted it and began to walk past him when he called my name again. I turned around and raised an eyebrow in question. "I heard you guys were going into town tomorrow. If…" He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the floor and he shuffled his feet. "I need a couple of chemicals for an experiment I'm doing and I was wondering if you could get them for me."

My eyes softened. "Of course."

His face broke into a smile again and he said a thankful goodbye before walking away to return to his lab. I watched him leave until he disappeared around the corner and then I turned on my heels, rushing to the end of the corridor and into my room.

I stripped off my clothes and crawled under the covers, burying my face in the pillows. By the time I fell asleep, the sun was already rising. Thankfully, no nightmares visited me this time.

Instead, I dreamt of the day Simon and I met for the second time, and he offered me the toffee sweet in an outstretched palm, introducing himself.

That sweet had given me a toothache that lasted for two days. But when he offered it to me again some time later, I accepted it regardless.

* * *

**A/N: This came out a little confusing, more scrambled than I wanted it to be, and incredibly depressing. Oh god, this whole story is going to be depressing. Christ, what did I get myself into?...  
Pilot chapters can be tricky. But I hope this was alright. I'll update next whenever I can.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Simon

**Simon**

* * *

I lifted the opening to my tent, immediately groaning when the light hit my face, squeezing my eyes shut. It was early evening, in the middle of winter, so why the hell wasn't it dark yet?

A chuckle sounded from nearby and I opened my eyes again, shielding them from the sun by holding a hand above them, to glare at Angel who walked past me, kicking dry leaves out of the way. She gave me an amused look, only sticking her tongue out when my gaze hardened.

I watched her back as she made her way further into the forest and shivered in her fur coat, relieving Riptide from his post as she passed him with a pat on the shoulder. For a moment I looked confused, even when Riptide walked towards me on his way to his tent, offering me a nod of his head in polite greeting.

I called his name and he hesitated, turning to me over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow. I almost felt silly for asking, "Why is Angel taking the watch tonight?"

He gave me a look like he was asking me if I was serious. When I continued to give him a questioning gaze, he rolled his eyes. "It's Thursday – her turn to watch the perimeter?" When I merely blinked, no less confused he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You need to get some sleep, man."

Ignoring my glare, he muttered a wry 'goodnight' and disappeared into his tent.

I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck, turning towards the clearing in the woods surroundings us and seeing the campfire lit. The flames licked up the wood that I faintly remembered chopping up recently, and gave out warmth that I was eager to eat up when a gust of wind chilled me to the bone.

I told myself that this camp hideout was a temporary arrangement. That the moment we have the information we need we will go back to the apartment that was currently our official home. As much as I was used to living rough, it didn't mean I enjoyed it. It just meant I complained a little less when it was my turn to take watch for the night or go deeper into the forest to bring back fresh water.

Neither of us were very pleased with the situation – not that we would voice it to Erik – but a forest was less discreet than an apartment, especially with a group as big and as noticeable as ours.

Treading through the dry leaves – thank God it wasn't snowing – I smiled when I got close enough to see that Raven was sitting on one of the large tree trunks near the fire. My expression fell when I saw that she was laughing wholeheartedly at something that another mutant sitting beside her had said. Azazel. I tried to wipe the sullen look from my face when I cleared my throat, announcing my presence.

"What's so funny?"

Raven whirled to look at me, a grin breaking out the moment she laid eyes on me. It almost shattered the small feeling of jealousy I felt when I saw the red-skinned mutant sitting next to her. Azazel was somewhat of a friend, but I didn't like way his eyes lingered on Raven, or the way he seemed to always capture her attention without fail.

"Simon," Raven grinned, immediately opening her arms and welcoming me into the blanket that she had around her shoulders. I welcomed the embrace and the warmth that spread through me as I sat down next to her and she wrapped her arms around me with a content sigh.

Over the top of her head, I sent Azazel a small glare but he didn't realise the ill intent behind the look, simply offering me a small smile in return. "How are you?" he inquired as he turned away to stir the fire with a long stick of wood.

"I'm fine," I said, a little too quickly, because he cocked an eyebrow, his tail twitching behind him, and Raven pulled away, giving me a wary look. "I'm fine," I repeated, rolling my eyes when she reached up and placed her hand on my cheek, and then my forehead.

"You look pale," she said softly, a concerned look in her eyes. "You're exhausted."

"Been busy, that's all," I shrugged, pulling her closer. It wasn't a lie, I _have_ been busy. Not just helping Erik with planning a couple of attacks, but also helping him to protect his mind. Honestly I thought him to be a little paranoid, he had the helmet after all, but he still wanted for me to teach him all that I had taught… All that I had taught to Nadia.

Raven lightly brushed my jawline with the tips of her fingers, bringing me out from my thoughts. "Erik needs to give you a break. You're not the only member of this team."

"I know," I said, a small smile lacing my lips. "But you're all busy with your own tasks. I'll get more sleep tomorrow, after mission is over," I promised, taking her hand in mine and entwining our fingers, kissing the skin where her palm met her wrist.

"Will you need my help to make your escape?"

I looked over to Azazel, seeing his tail move again as he waited for my response. I shook my head. "Most likely not, but keep one ear on us if you can spare it, just in case."

Azazel nodded, turning back to the fire. "I will." I offered him a small 'thanks' and pulled Raven towards me, grinning when she let out a quite giggle and nuzzled her face in my chest. Azazel gave me a sideways glance and his tail swished from side to side in excitement, the sharp end glinting when it caught light. "It's going to start soon," he said, his eyes boring into the flames, "I can't wait." A smirk was present on his face and I knew exactly what he was talking about. The fight, the battle, the war – no matter what it would be called in the future, it was all the same thing. We will show the human race that they had every right to fear us.

Raven shifted against me and faced the fire, resting her head on my chest, her arms tightening around my waist. "I had a dream last night."

I quirked an eyebrow at the change of subject and although Azazel didn't turn, his eyebrow twitched to show that he was listening. "Oh?"

She nodded and glanced up at me. "About Nadia."

When hurt flickered in my eyes she seemed to regret speaking my dead friend's name but I shook my head, letting her know it was alright. It was still like a gaping wound, one that began bleeding again from even the slightest pull, but how was I supposed to let the wound heal if I didn't allow new skin to cover it?

I gave an encouraging smile urging her to continue. "What happened in that dream?"

She searched my face before shrugging, looking down at the fire again. "I can't remember. I just know she was there."

Azazel shifted, his eyes narrowing at the fire before he turned to me, hesitating. "Nadia… the water mutant?" I nodded, albeit slowly, and he made a sound of recognition. We maybe have been sharing the same living space for a while but it was the first time he had brought her up. "She was strong."

I felt Raven stiffen against me but I rubbed her back soothingly until she relaxed again. I swallowed thickly, my eyes dark. "Evidently not strong enough."

* * *

_I brought the chair close to the kitchen counter, wincing when the wood noisily scraped across the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting the cook to come thundering down the stairs at any moment. But my ears were only met by silence._

_Instantly I relaxed, letting out a breath and grinned up at the cupboard that was forbidden to touch. Slowly, like lion stalking towards a herd of buffaloes, I climbed on top of the chair and then using the fan above the oven as a support, stepped onto the kitchen counter._

_Those biscuits were mine._

_The main caretaker refused to let us have any after dinner with our pudding._

_Stupid woman. I was seven years old. I could do what I wanted._

_Just as I was reaching for the tin of biscuits, my hands brushing against the metal box, the lights in the kitchen were flicked on. I froze like a deer caught in headlights. A shiver ran through my spine and I winced, slowly turning around and ready to apologise to the cook – or the caretaker, whoever it was that caught me – wishing that I could disappear from that moment in time._

_I would be grounded for sure after this._

_The cook yawned, rubbing her eyes with sleeve of her nightgown and-_

_She walked straight past me, blatantly ignoring me. _

_I could only stare with a raised eyebrow, my hand still resting on top of the door to the cupboard, as she poured herself a glass of water before leaving while I continued to gape at her. By the time I shook out of my trance I didn't even want the biscuits anymore._

_And then, no more than a fortnight later, it happened again. This time with a cake that was meant as a birthday present to one of the kids at the orphanage whom I disliked the most. Joseph – the bugger always broke my toys with the excuse that he was two years older and was therefore in charge of me._

_The cook was furious, crying out that somebody must have robbed them. The caretaker had rolled her eyes, pointing out that the woman was overreacting. The cook ignored her and roused the whole orphanage in the middle of the night to line us up to try and find out which one of us ate it. Poor kids, they had no idea what was even going on. I struggled to keep myself from laughing when Joseph began to wail like a girl once he realised his birthday cake was gone. Of course I didn't confess – my will was far too strong. She could threaten us with no dessert for a month as much as she wanted._

_The day I found out that something was truly different about me, came a couple of months later, while I was getting ready to go to school. I was one of the few orphans that were actually accepted, no matter how terrible or poor the school was._

_I hated school. It was pointless and it bored me. I only went because one of the caretakers that I actually liked – and she was an older woman, volunteering to help look after us during the weekends – insisted that I had to learn how to read and write. I thought I was smart, and I was smart, but apparently street smarts didn't make me intelligent if I stumbled on every third word while reading a relatively simple book._

_I was pulling on the scratchy sweater, rubbing my itching cheek with my fingers, the nails cut too short to actually scratch anything, when I realised that as I was standing in front of a mirror I had no reflection._

_A few nights before while we were secretly staying up past our bedtime, one of the children was reciting a story with a flashlight pointed at his face. A story about a bloodsucking creature that slept during the day and bit beautiful women's necks during the night. So naturally, my first thought following my discovering was that I was a vampire._

_The cook burst through the door, red in the face and visibly fuming. She had been hollering at me, "Come down to eat your breakfast, you, little bastard," for the last quarter of an hour. I jumped but my questioning look was replaced by that of utter amusement as yet again, she did not see me. As she scurried around the room, peering under the bed and into the wardrobe I sat down on the bed cross-legged and watch her curse under her breath._

_I didn't get any hot cocoa with my supper that evening but it was so worth it. I was laughing for hours straight, to the point where my throat burned and I was forced to gobble down pints of warm water with lemon because the caretaker thought I had a cold._

_That particular invisibility soon turned into something rather amusing. I could do anything I wanted without getting caught. The kids proclaimed me the Robin Hood and I even managed to get the nice caretaker to sow a green patch onto my coat._

_I could even sneak into a girls' school one or twice, particularly into the changing rooms – though I left the moment one of them lifted their shirt over their head, my cheeks and ears burning with embarrassment. One of the least wise decisions I have done - so I never pulled a similar stunt again._

_To be honest, I never lasted long in school. I caused far too much trouble and I was far too likeable. When I misbehaved, so did half of the entire floor. Eventually I was kicked out, and to that I said, "Good riddance." Petty crime seemed to be a far more welcoming career option, since I was refusing to work in a factory where there was 99% chance I would lose a limb in an accident. _

_The mutation was never short of a gift, even if for a while I was the only one with such a gift that I knew. Because up until then, every day of my life, I was told that I was worthless. People generally sneered at orphans with disgust and those who were kind were far too few. But when I found that I could turn invisible, it was the day that I realised I was different. Different in a most beautiful, empowering, unique way. And every mutant that I met since then, was exactly the same._

* * *

I walked hand in hand with Raven, darting around the busy street, pulling her back to me when she walked further away to the side than I'd like. She let out a small laugh when she collided against me and I threw my arm around her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

I looked down at her, unable to keep the smile from spreading on my face. She used to wear a disguise because she was afraid. Afraid of being judged and humiliated. And I knew that even though she promised it didn't, it still pained her to walk around in the disguise of the blonde girl that I first met her as. But it was crucial to stay under the radar.

I dropped my arm from her shoulder only to take her hand in mine and give it a light squeeze, beaming down at her when she hesitantly looked up. She confessed before leaving that morning that she felt anxious, being so close to where Charles's home was. I knew she missed him, the telepath having been her oldest friend after all.

I didn't break the stare between us for a long time and when I blinked, she smirked and faced the front again, her shoulders straightening with confidence. I grinned. She didn't hide out of fear anymore. Now, she felt powerful. Like she was pulling the wool over the humans' eyes. She stalked the streets with her head held high.

In every one of her forms, she was beautiful.

When we finally reached the park, a big crowd of people surrounding the gazebo in the centre of the clearing. I whirled her around and pulled her in for a kiss, my hands around her waist and holding her as close to me as possible. I didn't pull away until she did and she smirked, seeing something over my shoulder.

"I've got eyes on the target," she said, in a strangely authoritative tone. I raised an eyebrow but obeyed and turned around, seeing the man who was one of the deputy chiefs in the town. He was on his way to make the long awaited speech to over a dozen newspaper reporters. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that Raven was gone, mostly likely getting into position and I turned back to the officer of the law, cracking my neck.

My task was to distract to the target and Raven's… Well, all she had to do was twist his tongue a little.

Time to play.

_Just remember that old guy who lived next door to the orphanage, Simon. Bred and born in Scotland, he was._

I strolled over to the man and stretching my lips into a wide grin, jumped straight in his path.

"Guid morn, sairrr, terribly sorry tae disturb ye, but coods Ah ask ye a coople ay cuttie, tae the' point questions?"

It worked splendidly. The man blinked, giving me a baffled look. "I beg your pardon, young man, what did you say?"

I repeated my words, a fraction slower but putting even more emphasis on the consonants than before. It served its purpose to make him utterly confused and while he was acting the polite gentlemen that he was, trying to figure out exactly what I had mumbled out so he could give me a correct response, Raven shifted into his form. Sending me a wink she readjusted her tie and walked towards the gathered crowd in the park, the journalists and civilians pouncing the second they spotted her. Questions were fired, cameras took shaky photographs and microphones were raised high in the air.

The man in front of me frowned as the commotion attracted his attention and when he turned to look behind him, he gasped. "What the hell is going on?" he spluttered indignantly. "What are you doing?"

I rolled my eyes and wrapped my hand around is forearm, turning us both invisible. It was much easier to knock him out when the people around us couldn't hear his yells of protest.

After dragging him away from the scene and throwing him into the dumpster in an alley way – a part of me wished to be there when he woke just to see the look on his face – I clapped my hands together to bat the dust away and nodded to myself, walking back towards where Raven was, in case she needed my help to escape.

Bowler Hat used to say I was valuable because I walked like a shadow. He was wrong. Shadows may have a wide realm to travel within but they can't step into the light or they are revealed. I wasn't revealed, I remained unseen. To me, there were no such things as barriers.

* * *

I was sitting on a fold-out chair in Erik's tent while our leader moved around me, packing clothes into the duffel bag on the mattress. I was still a little surprised at what he told me just moments before, warily following his movements with my eyes. "You're leaving?"

It will be dark within a couple of hours and he was heading out into town.

It didn't make sense.

Erik barely shared his plans with us. I think it was because he liked to be completely certain of every detail before he revealed the whole picture. We didn't know yet what he was planning but he seemed to be placing the last pieces of the puzzle together and whatever he had in mind, I was certain that it was something huge. Things will never be the same.

"There's something big underground," he informed me, folding a jumper into the bag before zipping it shut. He turned to face me and crossed his arms over his chest. "There's a reason why the government hasn't released a statement concerning mutants."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and nodded catching his train of thought. "You think they're planning something. Some sort of… I don't know, secret operation. And they're trying to buy themselves time."

The confirmation I received was a smirk and I let out a whistle, impressed. Sometimes I loved how his brain worked. He saw connections in things that we didn't even notice were there in the first place and that made him the best leader we could ever hope to have. With him leading the way, we will win.

With renewed confidence, I sat up and continued. "Will you be alright? Wherever it is that you're off to. Do you need my help?"

"Not right now," he shook his head, approaching a chest that he held next to his bed and turned the combination lock. "But later, I might need your… underworld connections." I raised my eyebrows as he unlocked the chest and rose to his feet, hooking a shotgun under his belt and holding a familiar object under his right arm. "Unless, that would be a problem."

"No," I shook my head without as much as a second of hesitation. When I first came to America, I wanted out of the criminal world, mostly because it was becoming too dangerous, especially when I had Nadia to take care off. But now… I looked up and gave him a determined look. "Whatever it takes."

Erik nodded and I motioned to the thing under his arms with a smirk. "Taking your helmet? Think you might encounter Charles?" We were, after all, uncomfortably close to the telepath. We had our own yes, but I hadn't seen her face for a couple of days and was perfectly fine with that.

"Hopefully not," Erik said, pulling the bag up from the bed and swinging it over his shoulder. "But I'm not taking any chances. Even if I have a wonderful teacher." He offered me a knowing look.

I smirked, tilting my head to the side, secretly pleased to hear the praise. "I have a wonderful pupil."

A moment of silence passed and I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy breath when I heard the opening to the tent being unzipped. When I looked up, I was genuinely surprised to still see Erik in front of me, the mutant fixing me with a look I hadn't gotten from him in a long time.

"You miss her, don't you?"

I barked out a laugh, pinching the bride of my nose. "I try," I admitted, "I try not to think about her, I really do, but my entire goddamn life revolved around her and it's as if I'm not even Simon Edwards anymore. I've saved her life so many times, I guess… I guess it never really occurred to me that maybe one time I would fail."

Another silence followed and I hardly heard when Erik whispered, "I miss her too."

I searched his face, surprised to see the intensity of emotions that crossed it. I leaned forward and tilted my head to the side, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Did you have a thing for my best friend?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders, throwing his arms out. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't."

"Well," I gave him a tight smile, "It's not like I have to give you the 'big brother talk' anymore." I let out a laugh and he grinned, before looking down at his feet, glancing up with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Simon… Nadia is—"

I rolled my eyes, holding my hand up to interrupt him. "Erik, I swear, if you say 'she's in a better place', I will beat the shit out of you," I threatened, meaning every single word. Erik held his hands up in surrender. I shook my head, refusing to break the angry exterior and straightened up, inclining my head towards the opening of the tent. "So, _theoretically, _if you get in trouble – what is your escape plan?"

He thought for a moment before replying. "I whistle and you and Azazel zap me away back here. Preferably _before_ bullets start flying."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter turned out a little jumpier than I wanted it to be, though I did enjoy writing in Simon's point of view again. Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3

Alex smirked, raising his eyebrow as I pushed against his chest, my face red with the effort. He didn't budge, releasing an amused sound.

Anybody passing by would have undoubtedly confused this for a compromising position. They wouldn't have noticed that each of Alex's hands and legs were in the perfect position to successfully prevent me from escaping his hold.

Gritting my teeth, I narrowed my eyes in a glare. Every aching nerve pleaded with me to focus my powers and send him flying back. As if he could read my mind, the young man cocked his head to the side, silently daring me with his eyes.

So I threw my head back, aiming to hit my forehead with his with brute force. He knew the movement all too well and avoided it, loosening one of his hands that had a hold of me in the process. That was all it took. I immediately grabbed hold of the limb and twisted. He didn't release a sound but his face contorted in pain. Biting my lip, I managed to use the force of my grip on his twisted wrist, hooking my legs under his, to roll us over so I was hovering above him, his back pressed against the grass.

All too soon, Alex regained control and using his legs raised me from the ground – I let out a girlish squeak – and threw me over his head where I painfully landed on my back. The impact made me see stars and I barely protested when he flipped himself over and yet again was restraining me like a police officer would a criminal. Except for the hand that holding my neck down and preventing me from headbutting him again.

In a moment of panic, I dried his t-shirt from the sweat it was soaked in. And he noticed, letting out a small laugh.

"What was one of the first rules you taught me?" Alex asked, through a smug smile. He was wrong, the first time we sparred it was me and Simon together but Alex didn't mention his name. In his eyes, he was as much of an enemy as Erik. "No use of powers during sparring?"

His hand tightened around my neck, but not enough to cause pain or be uncomfortable. He knew that if I protested even in the slightest, he would move away. And I did just that, too tired to even struggle against the hold.

"Okay, okay, I yield!"

Immediately he moved away and rose to his feet, letting out a heavy breath. The moment I was up to my full height myself, his entire form collapsed and he wavered on his feet, bending over as sweat dripped from his forehead, his hair sticking out in every direction. I shook my head with a secret smile. In a fight he always fought at top strength, sometimes not even realising himself that he was beginning to tire until he had fully exhausted every drop of his strength.

He panted with his hands on his knees, and then looked up and cracked a grin. "I think I'm officially better than you."

I scoffed, shaking my head in denial. "No, you're just stronger than me. Big difference."

He laughed, giving me a look that suggested he didn't believe me, but his mouth didn't open to retort. Instead he frowned, straightening up and rolling his shoulders. He craned his neck to look past me, his eyebrows pulled together and I turned over my shoulder to see what he was looking at. Seeing nothing suspicious, I turned my eyes on him again and offered him a confused look.

"What?"

"Do you hear that?" he asked, his eyes still squinting into the distance.

I frowned, straining my ears. "Hear what?" Instead of answering, he held up a finger to silence me.

At first there was nothing, until a scream began, sounding very far away. Within seconds it was much, much louder and before I could recognise Sean's screaming, he rammed into us and sent the three of us flying into one of the ponds.

It was one of the smaller ones, for Alex and I haven't ventured far into the back yard while training but we still managed to be soaked from head to toe. I glared up at Sean through a curtain of wet hair as the teenager held his stomach, laughing, clad in his Banshee suit. He sobered up when Alex stumbled to his feet and set him with a murderous glare.

"Banshee!" he cried out like a warrior and Sean's eyes widened as he was tackled to the ground, his head submerging under the water.

I let the boys fight for a few minutes and then ushered them out of the lake before they could drown each other, drying the clothes with my powers so they wouldn't make a mess inside the mansion. As nice as it was to see the both of them laughing and truly enjoying themselves, they were the ones who wanted to go into town after all and it was already past midday.

They raced back to the house, Alex winning by a mile, as I slowly made my own way back to the large house, watching their retreating backs with a smile.

Once back in my own room, I showered and traded the muddied sweatsuit for a dress, mid-calf boots and a warm jacket. As I dried my hair with a flick of my hand and looked at my appearance in the mirror I noted that I looked more dressed up than usual. The thought almost made me want to change those clothes to jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket but I shook my head and walked away before I could actually do so.

A small part of me, not sure why, wanted to look good today.

One glance out through the window, told me that Alex and Sean were already waiting for me. They were leaning against the railing, chatting and laughing at something I couldn't see. I committed the sight to memory before leaving the room to join them.

However, before I could do so, I had one last errand to run. Stopping at the kitchen, I filled a tall glass with orange juice before making my way back up the stairs.

I found Charles in the drawing room in his wheelchair, asleep, an empty glass in his hand. I remained in the doorway and cleared my throat before gently knocking on the doorframe. His eyebrows pulled together but otherwise he didn't stir.

I entered the room, and drew the curtains shut, knowing that if Charles woke up with a hangover he would not appreciate the natural light drifting in through the tall windows. Turning back to the sleeping man I carefully approached him and removed the glass from his hold, placing it next to an empty chessboard on the table beside him. His hand twitched before tightening around empty air, curling into a fist.

I smiled sadly, surveying the dark circles under his eyes and the maroon shirt that he had worn two days in a row. It was a present from me, but now that he was wearing it I was forced to admit that it didn't suit him in the slightest. Charles was born to wear nothing but fitted suits, greys, and light blues that made his eyes shine.

Red didn't suit him, but perhaps it didn't matter. It made him stand out against the otherwise brown colour scheme he spent most of his time between. The only thing redder than his shirt was the colour of the vessels his bloodshot eyes.

I slowly raised my hand and leaning forward, gently pushed his shoulder. Charles jumped awake and I gave him a small smile, grabbing his flailing hand. "It's me," I said quietly, a little guilty for waking him.

"Nadia," he breathed out, blinking harshly. I released his hand and he nodded in greeting, rubbing his face with his hands with a groan. "What time is it?"

"Early in the afternoon," I smirked, stepping back, knowing that he will be annoyed at me for not being specific. And he was. He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy breath, but gave me a grateful look when I handed him the glass of orange juice.

"We're leaving now," I announced, as I watched him down the glass in one breath with crossed arms. "Should be back by tonight." Charles nodded, showing that he understood. "Will you be okay?"

The telepath placed the now empty glass on the coffee table and gave me a pointed look. "Of course," he said, leaning back into his chair and covering a small burp with his hands. I nodded and opened my mouth again, this time to ask him if there is anything he would like me to get for him but he let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "Have fun."

I shut my mouth, pressing my lips into a thin line before nodding. I brushed down my clothes and turned to walk out of the room, only hesitating at the doorway. "Take care of yourself, Charles," I said quietly, glancing at him over my shoulder before walking down the hall to join the anxious young men outside.

He didn't move or speak to show that he had heard me.

* * *

Alex was resting against the counter, looking at the woman on the other side in the eyes, holding a pair of thin-framed but surprisingly sturdy glasses.

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Do you have anything exactly like these, but… bigger?"

The woman glanced at the glasses he was holding up and then searched his face, curious. She leaned forward and asked, "_Who_ did you say you were buying these for?"

I bit my lip, barely stifling a laugh. When Alex set out to buy Hank a pair of glasses – hopefully ones that would fit better – as an early birthday present, he clearly didn't expect the task to be this difficult.

Alex gave the woman an embarrassed smile, struggling to find an excuse. He gave me a sideways glance, but I only smirked, offering him no help. Finally he shrugged, throwing his arms out. "Hey, I guess my uncle really loves those new hamburgers they're selling." He laughed and placed the glasses on the counter, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking on the back of his heels. "He just can't get enough of them."

"Right..." The woman nodded, still a little disturbed. "Well, I'll go see if we got anything."

"Thank you," Alex said earnestly as the woman disappeared from behind the counter and walked off towards the room with the sign 'employees only'.

I giggled and he threw me a cold glare before turning his head away, scanning the rack of leaflets with little interest.

Alex was a kind spirit.

I knew that primarily, we connected because we both had powers that were unstable. Even if now that I had to practically learn all I knew from the beginning, and Alex was doing much better than when I first met him. He understood what it was like to unintentionally get people hurt, and one night I found out it wasn't just because of Darwin's death back when Shaw attacked the CIA base.

There was a reason Alex was in prison, and preferred solitary confinement – though that fact in itself I often questioned.

Alex had a presence that demanded attention. He looked intimidating and strong, and in all honesty was a rather good looking lad. He was wired with muscle, most of the time walking around with his head held high even if his eyes were cast downwards and he often chose to remain the silent one in the group, a little like myself, if I admit. But when I got to know him, a gentle and insecure young soul was revealed.

He told me one evening, after we were resting following another, rather draining sparring session that he was imprisoned for killing the man who abducted him and his sister. When the words actually left his mouth I was rather speechless, but luckily Alex didn't really want a comment on the act. I could guess that he battled a range of emotions but when he turned to me and gave me a grateful smile – in that moment looking very much like a small, lost boy – I realised that he was simply glad to finally let it out of his chest. It would never have been hard to find out the truth myself, I was sure that Charles still had his file stashed away somewhere, but I felt proud for waiting to hear the truth from Alex himself.

I had given him a small smile back and squeezed his hand reassuringly, silently telling him that it was not his fault and he was only trying to protect his family and himself. Despite nodding back, he had faced the front again, his eyes gazing into the distance emptily.

The very same way he was staring at those leaflets.

I opened my mouth to say something, I wasn't yet sure _what_ exactly, but the woman came back with a box and a pair of glasses in her hands. "These are the biggest we have," she said while handing them to the blonde mutant. He gave them one look over and thanked her, handing her the correct amount of money before turning around and leaving.

He held the door open for me when I caught up with him – taking the bag from his hands before he could protest against it – and once we left the shop we were on the busy street again, spying out another target to spend our money on.

Charles could be incredibly generous sometimes.

Sean attracted our attention by yelling our names and wildly waving his hands above his head, his mop of bright hair bouncing as he raced towards us from the other side of the road. When he reached us he grinned, twirling in a circle with his arms held out. "Well, what do you think?"

Alex released a low whistle of approval as Sean took a loud slurp from his drink, wiggling his eyebrows. "Awesome."

I agreed wholeheartedly. The new brown, leather coat the kid was sporting did indeed look awesome, even if it was far too big and hung awkwardly on his shoulders. "It looks good, Sean."

Just how I would look in one of Simon's big coats.

The red haired boy pointed his finger at me with a smirk. "Girls like it – good to know." He seemed to note it down with a nod to himself. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Some things never changed.

"So," Sean started, walking ahead and leading the way through the crowd. "Where are we off to next?"

"No idea," Alex shrugged. "I already got what I wanted."

He was referring to the set of weights that were resting in the back of the car we drove to town. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw how much he assumingly could lift but he simply shrugged, as if it was normal. "Not much to do in prison. So when I wasn't in solitary confinement, I lifted weights," he had said nonchalantly, slamming the door to the trunk shut.

The blonde mutant turned to me and raised his eyebrows. "You were getting anything?"

I was about to open my mouth to respond when I noticed a particular shop in the corner of my eyes. I raised my finger in the air and smirked at his curious look. "Wait for it…"

"Holy shit!"

I grinned as Sean caught sight of the shop and ran towards it, nearly ramming into people on his way who narrowly jumped away, throwing the teenager annoyed looks. Sean took no notice and when Alex saw what I found so amusing, he let out a throaty laugh. Sean was standing in front of the window of the electronics shop, his face pressed against the glass as he gazed up at the multiple screens in wonder.

Sean wanted a television screen in his bedroom and after he kept pleading for it from Charles, insisting continuously that he would mostly use it to watch the news and would not disappear from the face of the earth the moment it was installed, the telepath gave in. It's not like he didn't have the money.

Sean beamed at us when we approached him and strode over to the entrance of the shop with a grin on his lips until it suddenly fell and he hesitated in the doorway, noticing a sign on the door that was popping up everywhere more and more, especially in privately run businesses: 'No Mutants Allowed'.

The teenager glanced at us over his shoulder with a sour look on his face.

Alex leaned to the side to see what had crushed the younger man's spirits and noticed the sign. Immediate his shoulders squared and he growled, gritting his teeth. I was glad that I had taken the bag with the glasses from him because judging from his hands they would have been nothing more than a pile of crushed glass.

He hated those signs. We all did, but Alex in particular. He would always say how people's reaction to the existence of mutants was no different than what the Nazis did a couple of decades ago, or when people believed in white supremacy. "That kind of attitude," he would say, "is what gives birth to beliefs that Erik has."

I gave Sean an apologetic smile, knowing that him being a teenager who always felt out of place, the sign was a harsh blow to the stomach but the kid did something that surprised me. He turned back to the window and took in a deep breath, his lips pressing into a thin line. Practically radiating determination, he glared pointedly at the sign as he pushed open the door and entered the store.

My jaw hanging open, I turned to Alex who looked confused before his face was enveloped in a warm expression. He was proud. Offering me a smile, he followed Sean and I couldn't help but do the same, still taken aback by how strong and brave Sean could be, even when he wasn't fighting a battle as 'Banshee'.

Once inside the shop, I used the much quieter atmosphere to dig the list that Hank made out of the pocket in my coat and read it. Sean handed it to me in the car on the way here, claiming with a bored yawn that every single word on that list was made up. He had gotten the list from Hank earlier that day, still a little sour that he basically threw him out of the lab. I just laughed, knowing full well that the teenager was far too interested in the colourful test tubes carefully arranged on the desk and Hank good-naturedly kicked him out before he could ruin whatever experiment he was running.

Alex was stolen from my side and dragged away by Sean – albeit with a little less enthusiasm than before – to a nicely stacked pile of television screens. 'Havok' complied with a roll of his eyes and a small smile pulling at his lips, very much like an older brother would.

The noise of a television distracted me from the long, complicated words scrawled on the piece of paper and I looked up to see a black and white screen to my left. It was on the shelf filled with multiple television sets, but was the only one that was on. It showed some sort of talk show – neither Simon nor I had patience for those – and the man that was the focus on the show looked familiar. One of the congress representatives, though I couldn't connect his face to a name. He was speaking patiently, although the look on his face betrayed that he wasn't keen on being the focus of attention.

"…_There haven't been many serious outcries against the mutants as of yet, and I must say that the situation could be much worse. I'm glad. After all the protests, marches and sit-ins to gain equal rights for the African Americans are getting more and more frequent and the streets cannot take any more violence."_

"_But are they dangerous?"_

"_Personally? No, I do not think they are dangerous. The Cuban Missile Crisis was an incredibly embarrassing situation and we are still trying to figure out exactly what happened. To trust the words of the soldiers on the fleets involved would be unwise."_

"_But the protests must mean something, right? Just last week, the peaceful sit-in in South Carolina was interrupted by a large march protesting against mutants. Forty-seven people were gravely injured in the violence that followed. Anti-mutant protesters are demanding that they reveal themselves."_

I swallowed, gripping the paper so tightly in my hands that my knuckles turned white. I knew the event that they spoke off. Before the battle with Shaw, most of the news involved reports about the Civil Rights Movement but now the media coverage was shining the spotlight on the word 'mutant'. And it wasn't a pleasant sight.

The congress representative looked contemplative before shaking his head.

"_It's like discovering a new species. A species that is just as adapted and eager to survive as we are. Of course we are on the defensive – we have to be. Some of the rumours flying around mention mutants with extraordinary and terrifying abilities. Our streets are filled with people that are walking, ticking time-bombs. The need to be contained because even if they don't mean to, they are endangering the lives of thousands, if not millions—"_

"Can you believe them?" Alex's voice was sudden and bitter and much closer to me than I had expected it. I shot him a startled look to see him standing beside me with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed.

"They're just scared," I said unsurely, not knowing what else to offer to him.

Alex released an angry sound, glaring at the device as if he wanted to smash it to a million pieces. "Trust me; I know _why_ they're scared." He gave me a short glance, one full of meaning that I understood all too well. He swallowed heavily and turned back to the television screen, shaking his head. "But all of this…" he motioned to the screen and the 'No Mutants Allowed' sign on the window, "It's wrong. We can't help them understand if they don't listen."

I nodded solemnly, agreeing. Like Charles, I wanted for humans and mutants to co-exist together, but it was forecasted to be a long and strenuous fight.

If the human race continued to reject mutants, then Erik and Simon would be proven right, and as much as I cared for both of them, I didn't want for it to get to that.

* * *

I was cradling the shopping bag to my chest, carefully carrying the little bundle of chemicals and trying not to shake them about too much. Despite the relatively short list and the small amounts, it wasn't easy to get them. The man at the drug store refused to sell them at first, thinking that I was just another youth who wanted to get high and listen to 'that one guy in shiny pants and puffy, slicked back hair'. It took a while to convince him that I wasn't about to ingest anything that produced a hallucinogenic response and by the time I left the shop, Sean was almost falling asleep on the bench outside, his arm slung over the box that held his new television.

After all the trouble I went through, Hank owed me a favour.

And when we turned to head towards the car that would take us home – parked just across the street – my eyes fell on an open bar and suddenly my throat was very, very dry.

Alex noticed that I had stopped walking before Sean did, wavering in his step and throwing me a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'll stay," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "I could use some time on my own."

"Now?" Sean looked up warily at the darkening sky before walking towards me, readjusting his grip on the heavy box in his arms. He exchanged a look with Alex who looked no more pleased with the idea. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Come on, boys, I can take care of myself. I'll be fine, I've been out plenty of times."

"Will you be okay by yourself?" Alex asked, raising his head a fraction.

Their concern would have been endearing if I wasn't older than them and far more experienced to be out in the streets on my own after dark. I would often go out drinking in bars, whether with Simon or on my own when he would have been otherwise busy or indisposed.

I raised an eyebrow and gave Alex a challenging look. "Of course." Sometimes I was convinced he thought himself older than me.

Sean didn't seem convinced, his eyes flickering between me and Alex. "Charles won't like it," he offered lamely.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Who are you afraid of right now?"

Sean hesitated before answering, looking at down at his feet when he did. "I honestly don't know."

Alex rolled his eyes, lightly patting him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's just go. She's not our mother, Sean. She's not charged with babysitting us and neither are we."

"Okay," Sean nodded, defeated, but shuffling his feat he gave me a determined look. "You let us know when you get home, alright?"

I nodded, smiling softly. "Of course."

The teenager accepted my response, stepping forward and taking the bag from me, putting it on top of the box in his arms. For a moment he looked like they were going to give under the weight but he adjusted it at the last moment, offering me a tired smile.

"How will you get home?" Alex stuffed his hands in his pockets, raising and eyebrow. His tone wasn't patronising, just genuinely curious.

I shrugged, crossing my arms. "If I can't get a bus tonight, I'll just find a hotel room to spend the night and get home in the morning. Who knows, maybe I'll buy that motorbike I've been meaning to get for a while." It was the truth – no matter how little of a good idea it seemed. I knew that a motorcycle would give the small illusion that Simon was still around and perhaps unconsciously it was the only reason I wanted one in the first place, but the way Sean's eyes shined when I brought it up, only served to encourage me.

"Okay," Alex nodded, before inclining his head towards their ride. "Well, we'll be off. Take care."

I gave him a small wave of my hand and the pair said their goodbyes before crossing the street. I waited for them to leave, biting back a laugh when Sean clumsily threw the television box into the trunk and then winced when he realised what he had done. Alex rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut, moving around the car to get into the driver's seat.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Sean called over his shoulder with a cheeky grin before disappearing inside of the car.

I rolled my eyes, waving at them with a grin until the car disappeared down the street and around the corner. Then I let my smile and my hand drop, turning towards the bar and taking in a deep breath.

It was a while since I could let my thoughts free, without the fear of being overheard. I loved Charles, Sean and Alex's company, I really did, but sometimes it felt like it was hard to breathe around the three of them. And the only person, who I could tell anything to, wasn't there.

I never really thought it was possible to feel crowded and yet so alone at the same time, but that was exactly how I had felt for the last couple of months.

When I entered the bar, the soft rock song on the radio meeting my ears and the smell of liquor invading my nose, I let a fond smile spread across my lips.

It really _has_ been far too long.

I marched straight to the bar, ignoring the curious looks drifting my way and ordered a glass of whiskey before the barman could even greet me. He raised an eyebrow, his moustache twitching but no more than a few moments later a glass of golden, fiery liquid was placed in front of me. I thanked him and wrapping my hands around the glass, spied an empty bench in the corner of the room, making my way to the seat before anybody else could claim it before me.

When I finally collapsed in the chair I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. Placing my drink on the table in front of me I rested my elbows on either side of it and buried my face in my hands.

I remained that way for so long, that a young man with greased hair tapped me on the shoulder to ask me if I was alright. I just let out an embarrassed laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck and assuring him that I was fine.

When he finally walked away, telling me to be careful, I looked down at the whiskey and raised the glass to my lips, my eyes scanning the bar as I tilted it to have the first taste in what seemed like forever.

I froze, the whiskey meeting my parted lips with a welcoming burn. My mouth refused to move to actually take the sip. A very familiar face stared at me from across the bar, his piercing blue eyes widening as if he had seen a ghost.

Erik.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said before, since I'm not planning for this fanfic to be very long and its focus is on Nadia, things might be moving faster than I would usually write. Though I'm not exactly sure of anything to be honest, I am publishing this as I write it.  
Also, apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes (for this chapter as well the the previous ones). Sometimes proof-reading just doesn't do the trick.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Holy moly, how long has it been?! I'm so sorry. Things got in the way. But finally the film is out! I am not sure whether I'll be able to go and see it yet but either way now that there's more information available I know where to end things (sort of - at least so that I wouldn't completely screw up the timeline). It seems I have **_**lots**_** of planning to do, but hopefully I'll be able to update more often soon.**

* * *

"Nadia?"

Even though Erik whispered my name, I could hear it clearer than if he would have yelled it straight at me.

I remained frozen, unsure whether it was really him or whether I was seeing things, even when he abandoned his seat and anything but jumped over the table, advancing towards me in lightning speed.

Wearing a black jumper, dark trousers and a dark leather jacket, he almost looked like a shadow if it wasn't for his eyes. They were bright, brighter than I remembered and they stared right through me.

I think I had forgotten how to breathe.

I didn't move. I _couldn't_ move. And then, when my brain suddenly realised that this was real, that Erik was in front of me and holding my wrists in an iron grip, the first instinct that returned was the urge to flee.

"Let go off me!"

And I did. I pushed him away and ran. Out of the door and into the cold and down the street until I was flung into a wall from behind, the dark shape from the bar bigger now that he had a bag slung over his shoulder.

"No!" I trashed against his grip, kicking, punching and biting. Erik was trying to calm me down, trying to stop me from moving. I refused to let any of his words reach me. "Get the hell off me!"

"Please!" he yelled. When I eventually lessened my struggles – purely due to my limbs losing energy and beginning to flail around helplessly – I realised how short of breath I was. I stared up at him in fear, not quite meeting my eyes. "No, no," he muttered under his breath, "please don't be scared of me." He cradled my face in his hands and I flinched at the touch. "How? How could you be alive?"

I didn't answer for my throat was too dry. His eyes were searching my face as if trying to commit it to memory, and he let out a broken smile, uttering my name in a whisper.

The panic returned full-force, my mind screeching.

_Not Erik. Not Erik. Not Erik._

I squeezed my eyes shut and kicked him away. He groaned, stumbling backwards and I used the space to aim a punch in his head. He avoided it by throwing himself to the side but I didn't wait for him to retaliate and bolted away and around the corner.

I wasn't sure why I was running away. Erik was someone whom over the time I found myself caring about, my mind often wandering to him when I couldn't sleep or did something that would remind me of him. Or when I would watch the news and out of nowhere my mind would ask me, "_What would Erik say about all that?"_

But I wasn't supposed to see him ever again. Or Simon, or Raven. As much as we missed them, we were on different sides now. Any kind of encounter would bring about nothing but conflict.

My thoughts were a jumbled mess and I could barely hear them over the sound of my breathing as I ran down the street, trying to ignore how empty of life it was.

This time when he caught up again, I expected the arm that came out from the shadows behind and attempted to wrap around my waist. I turned and ducked, spinning with a kick, and took Erik's legs out from underneath him. He gasped in surprise, the bag falling to the floor, but he didn't fall towards the road as I expected him.

No, instead he fell forwards. Towards me. And since that was the unfortunate time I made the decision to straighten up and raise my fists, I barely had enough time to react as he collapsed into me and sent us both crashing through a shop window that already had a crack in it.

I screamed as we fell to the hard floor and squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a groan of pain, when my back met the floor and a rain of broken glass showered over us. And the weight of the heavy man over me only served to make me realise that I was lying in a pool of glass that was cutting through my clothes and into my back.

"You're alive!" Erik cried, and his voice sounded far too loud for my still-ringing ears. The lack of light cast him in darkness and I could barely make out his face, though I could hear the smile in his voice. "I can't believe it, you're alive!" he cried over and over again joyfully, lifting himself from me but not moving to stand. He remained on his fours, leaning over me, when his smile fell and he seemed to frown. "You're alive?" This time the words came out as a wary question.

I could only groan and give a half-assed attempt to push him off. His weight might have been lifted but I could feel the sharp edges of glass I was on cutting into my back. "Yes, I'm alive, Erik. But I won't be for long if you don't get off of me."

Erik blinked in confusion and when he looked around, his eyes widened in realisation. He winced, scrambling to his feet and pulled me up along with him, his grip much gentler this time now that he knew for definite that I recognised him.

He pulled me back onto the pavement, completely ignoring the shop window we had destroyed and pulled me into a hug that again forced the air out of my lungs. He breathed something in a whisper but his words were muffled by my hair.

My back burned and I wriggled out of his grip, shakily taking two steps back when my vision swam. Erik's hands shot up to steady me and I gratefully accepted the support, for a few moments doing nothing but stare at the ground, breathing deeply.

"Nadia?" He called my name again, quietly and unsurely. As if he still couldn't believe I was standing there in front of him.

I looked up in annoyance, rolling my eyes. "No, it's the ghost of Christmas past," I shot back, brushing his hands away. "Here to remind you what an evil old man you've been lately."

His face cracked into a grin and he laughed. I tried to stay annoyed, I really did. After all, what the hell was he doing here? But when he wrapped me in another hug, this time gently, and pressed his lips against my temple, whispering the same words, over and over again, I felt my own lips slowly pull up in a smile.

"I am so glad that you're alive."

* * *

I hissed when a sharp pair stung my back and Erik immediately retracted the towel with a mumbled apology, pressing it against the injury a little gentler. I pressed my lips in a thin line and tried to ignore the pain. He was almost done.

When he insisted I came back to his hotel room, I protested as much as my tired and injured state could. But he refused, even if he agreed that I should at least get my back looked at and cleaned up. I wanted to go to the hospital but Erik didn't agree and I had little will in me to object when he threw his bag over his shoulder and began to drag me down a dark road.

"I am never letting you out of my sight," he had said firmly, squeezing my hand in his for effect. "Not again."

I wasn't sure whether to beam dreamily or run in the opposite direction.

I had teased him when he walked me through the reception of the hotel he was staying at. It seemed far too extravagant, especially for him, but he said that money didn't matter as he had a 'mountain' of Nazi gold at his disposal – a relic from his time spent hunting down the people that had wronged him.

That shut me up.

Once inside his room, he allowed me a moment of privacy to change out of the ruined dress and coat – so much for it being thick – and into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he had provided before he came back with a bowl filled with warm water and a towel in his hands. He set both on the bedside cabinet and shedding his coat, pulled me down to sit on the edge of the bed, facing forward. He sat just a little behind me and pulled the back of the shirt up so my back was revealed, but left the rest untouched. I was thankful for that, even if having my back practically bare in itself set my cheeks on fire.

If he noticed, he didn't mention it. Erik worked in silence that was only interrupted by an occasional sharp intake of air through my nose. I was no stranger to injuries, many sparring matches were far worse than that tumble through the mirror but cuts, no matter how shallow, always seemed to irk me far more than bruises.

Throughout the entire time – it felt so long that I half-expected the sun to be rising when I glanced through the window – Erik worked at cleaning my injuries, he only asked me one question. How was it that I survived.

I had no answer, and he received no more than a small shrug of my shoulders.

Then the silence continued and I forced myself to keep my eyes on the ceiling as he worked and not on the mirror on the dresser where I could see his reflection. I had caught his eyes in it once and that was enough.

"Do you remember when we were trying to reach Shaw and you helped me move the submarine?" I frowned at the unexpected question but nodded slowly to show that I had heard it. "Without you, I wouldn't have done it."

I let out a small laugh. "You were never that modest, Erik."

I could feel his shrug by the way the bed dipped slightly to on side. "I recognise true power when I see it." My eyes flickered to the side and he met my eyes in the mirror's reflection, his lips pulling up in a smirk, before he returned his attention to my back. "I'm being serious. You helped me more than you can imagine. Not just by your mutation but just by being there."

I didn't know how to react to those words so I remained silent as he continued. "When you first fell into the ocean, I panicked. We all did. And then you ran onto that beach, alive and well." His hand paused on my skin and his voice lowered. "Only to be ripped away from us mere moments later."

I shifted on the seat, rolling my shoulders slightly. "I'm alive now, am I not?"

Erik lowered his hand and I could feel the towel leaving my skin. "Yes," he said so quietly that I almost missed it. "You are."

For a long while it was quiet again. The kind of silence that left me squirming uncomfortably in my seat. It left me wondering what Erik was thinking as he was finished with cleaning my wounds now and sat still behind me, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"Show me your power."

I blinked, confused at his request, and sent him a questioning look over my shoulder. It was a mistake – Erik was even closer than I expected him to be and he was looking straight into my eyes. I shifted, looking away to the side. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I knew what he was asking. He wanted to see something big. He wanted me walking on water, he wanted me throwing people around like rag-dolls. All I was comfortable with was drying the water out of the bowl and dumping it on his head.

Not waiting for his reaction I rose to my feet and lowered the t-shirt, fully intent on putting as much distance between us as I could, but Erik took hold of my arm before I could walk away. I hesitantly met his eyes, suddenly realising that I was alone in a room with a man that Hank, Alex and Sean considered an enemy. And as much as I wanted to believe that his intentions were nothing but kind, his very presence in the town was questioning.

Erik's expression was pleading and I forced myself to stomp down the feeling of guilt that filled the pit of my stomach. "Please?" I bit my lip and gently pulled my hand away, walking backwards until I met the table in the room. I leaned against it and crossed my arms nervously, Erik watching my movements the entire time with a concerned look. "What's wrong?"

"I—" My voice broke and I let out a strained smile. "I don't know. I can't use it like that. Ever since I woke up, it's been like starting from square one."

Erik rose to his feet, putting the towel on the bedside cabinet and slowly approached me, his eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

"I lost my memory, Erik." I couldn't bear to look at him as the words left my mouth. "I didn't know who any of you are. I didn't know who I was. And then—"

"But you remembered - or, I don't know, Charles returned them to you?" Erik interrupted me, coming to a stand no more than a few feet away. "He must have. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't. And I knew you recognised me across the bar. I could see it in your eyes."

I shook my head, closing my eyes and continuing as if he had never spoken. "And then there was a man, and he was so kind at first. But then when he found out, it was like with my parents all over again. I ran and Charles found me and I got it back. All my memories."

"See," Erik smiled softly when my words confirmed his theory, raising his hands he rested them on my shoulders, rubbing them gently. "It's all fine now."

"No, it's not _all fine now_," I hissed, immediately regretting it when his arms stilled, and hurt and surprise flickered in his eyes. His jaw clenched. I took in a deep breath and continued, calmer, "I wish it worked like that. I really do. But these memories... They're not mine. At least, they don't feel like they are." Erik frowned and looked like he was going to say something but I held my hand up to stop him. "I'm still the same. I know I am. But... I can't use my powers. Just— Please don't ask me again."

I raised my chin defiantly and shut my eyes, breathing deeply through my nose, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I haven't even voiced any of this to Charles – why was I saying all this to Erik?

"Nadia." I didn't answer when he called my name and a second later Erik tried again. "Nadia." I gave in with an irritated sigh and opened my eyes to meet his gaze. "What are you afraid of?"

Memories flashed through my head like violent kicks to the stomach. A giant column of water, shaped like a man, screaming out for help like a fisherman drowning in the lake. The frightened look in my little brother's eyes as he pointed at me and hid behind our mother's leg. My father's curses and torture and words of utter hatred, directed at me, a child who hadn't even begun to grow into a woman. The soldier on one of the fleet ships in Cuba, shaking in both fear and adrenaline as I stared him down. Marcel training the end of the gun at me, his face contorted in anger.

I shrugged meekly, "Everything?"

Erik chuckled and his hands travelled upwards until he was cradling my face, lowering his head to rest his forehead against mine. "There is nothing for you to be afraid of."

I hadn't realised I was crying until he gently brushed his thumb over my cheeks and wiped the tears away.

Slowly, I looked up, my eyes searching his face for any lie or deception. When I found none, a warm feeling enveloped my chest. His faith was infectious. A small part of me, for a fleeting moment, actually believed him. And when he smiled softly, his eyes flickering to my lips and back up to my eyes in a silent question for permission, I accepted the kiss eagerly.


	5. Chapter 5

"_I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity."_

I blinked at the memory that invaded my head. Charles raising his fingers up to his temples and reaching deep into Erik's mind, where his most passionate and yet peaceful memories resided. The very few happy memories; one of them, his mother carrying a cake into the living room, the candles dancing in the dark, the flames reflecting in Erik's eyes.

I shifted and turned to lie on my stomach, folding my arms over Erik's chest and plopping my chin on top. I searched his face, remembering how young and innocent and _hopeful_ he looked.

He had a different kind of hope now.

Erik cracked one eye open and when I smiled he shifted his head on the pillow and reached for one of my hands, lacing our fingers together. He blinked and raising a quizzical eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"

I avoided his eyes, looking down at our entwined hands. "I wonder what your life would have been like if you were never taken to Auschwitz."

Erik let out a small laugh, a silently bitter sound. "I wouldn't have been any different. The only difference is that my parents would have still been alive."

I bit my lip, wincing guiltily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," he took hold of my face, sitting up slightly and pressing his forehead against mine. "Don't be sorry. I miss them. I do. And they made me the man I am now." Then he looked down at me and chuckled. "What? You don't like me as I am?"

"Of course I do," I said honestly. Erik smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek. "What were they like? Your parents?"

He searched my face, then smiled and lowered his hand, lying back down. "Kind. My father fought in the war, too, you know. Just the first instead of the second." I smiled myself as a fond look washed over Erik's face. "Jakob. A highly decorated World War I veteran. He was brave, in a timid way. After my uncle Erich was beaten up and forced to wear a sign saying that he had _shamed_ a German woman, my mother insisted we all left. She hated how our loved ones were being treated after the passing of Nuremberg Laws. My father, instead went to see Major Scharf, the very man who had pinned the Iron Cross to the lapel of his coat, in hopes of immunity. You know what they did, after leaving him to wait for hours?"

Sensing his distress, I raised my hand and gently trailed my fingers along his jawline and upwards, brushing his cheek. It seemed to calm him a little and he swallowed to collect himself, relaxing his jaw, but his eyes remained colder than they were at the start of his story.

"A group of Nazi soldiers beat him for hours for 'causing trouble' in Scharf's office and resisting arrest. All Scharf did was throw my father out into the street, stating that they were even as the Nazis would have killed him. When things worsened in Germany, my father would say, 'Fight back, and they'll stomp in your head'. He had this foolish idea that maybe if we abide by the rules, then we would survive…"

His voice trailed off, his eyes clouded and for a long moment he did not speak. When he remained unblinking, a mixture of emotions on his face as the memory moved from his lips and into the inside of his head, I had to press my hand over his heart to check that he was still breathing.

"I think they would have been very proud of you," I finally said, smiling when his eyes flickered to mine.

Erik blinked and looked genuinely surprised at my words. I smirked and shook my head, moving my hair out of my face and looked up at the spot at the ceiling he was so captivated with before. "Well, I mean _most_ of the choices you've made." I could see Erik roll his eyes but ignored him, continuing, "To some of your life choices, the response from any decent parent would be a smack on the back of the head and no pudding after dinner—"

He cut me off with a kiss and my words died on my throat, the train of thought evaporating from my brain in a cloud of smoke. I smiled into it and closed my eyes, deepening the kiss and wrapping my hands around his neck, pulling him closer as our lips moved in unison. In such moments of intimacy, nothing else mattered. The world outside the window – hell, outside that bed – didn't exist.

Erik's hands wrapped around my waist, molding our bodies together and I could feel him slowly move them upwards, entangling themselves in my hair and I pulled away, opening my eyes and narrowing them.

"Tell me more."

Erik's hands drifted to my shoulders and he smirked. "I'd rather do something else."

I pretended to consider it before shaking my head. "And I want to know more about you. You know practically everything about me, it's not fair."

When Erik sighed, giving in, I smiled in victory. "Well, there was a girl…"

"Oh…" I grinned mischievously and shifted higher, placing an elbow on either side of him and resting my chin in the palms of my hands. I have stirred the Pandora's Box. "There's always a girl. Do continue."

Erik rolled his eyes good-heartedly. "She went to my school. A Romani girl named Magda."

"Magda!" I gasped overdramatically and echoed the name dreamily to tease him.

He trained me with a mock-angry look and I grinned but immediately mouthed an apology, mimicking a motion of zipping my lips shut and locking them. Erik smirked and resumed speaking. "I always tried to get her to notice me. I even made necklaces and tried to excel at every sport activity. So one day at a school event, I won a javelin competition to impress her."

"…Did it work?"

Erik shrugged. "In a way. The following day I was accused of cheating and told to forfeit my medal or recreate the throw with a 'regulated' javelin stick. I won again." I raised my eyebrows for him to continue and Erik did, his shoulders tensing. "I was accused of cheating, again, expelled and as I left the school, a group of children dragged me to the corner and beat me. I suppose I should have seen that coming."

My smile fell and I frowned, looking to the side. Despite the sad ending Erik seemed to chuckle and close his eyes peacefully. "But if you meant to ask, did it get Magda's attention, then yes. It certainly caught her eye." Erik opened his eyes to wink at me before his expression sobered. "And what about your family?" he asked, almost testily.

I let my lips pull upwards and admitted, "I had a wonderful family... Well, before they found out I was a mutant." I laughed fondly, recalling the moments I could remember from my childhood. "My mother used to make the most wonderful Sunday dinners, even when Britain was struggling to get back on its feet, she would always somehow find the time and money to prepare it. Robert would always be the first at a table, trying to get the best of everything. He would pile his plate high, and only finish half of it. Father would be late, but we would always save him something..." I couldn't even continue, lost in that single memory.

Erik looked thoughtful. "You still love them… After all this time?"

I shifted my weight from one elbow to another, confused by his words. "Of course. They're my family. I can't bring myself to hate them."

"They tortured you. Treated you like an animal."

I shifted uncomfortably again, but any anger that rose in my chest, melted the moment I risked another look at his face. His tone of voice had me afraid that he was angry, but his expression was one of worry. I lifted my hand and caressed his jaw. The light stubble on his chin indicated he hadn't shaved for a few days but it didn't bother me. I let a smile pull at my lips as I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing it back. "You are a very angry man, Erik Lehnsherr."

"I do not see it as a bad thing. My anger fuels me."

I smiled softly but looked away before his eyes could meet mine and rose into a sitting position, swinging my legs over the edge. Those words sounded familiar. Erik didn't ignore my silence as I had hoped he would.

"Do you truly believe in Charles' view? The pacifistic, philanthropic eyes he sees the world through?" I didn't answer; afraid my answer would simply have angered him. I could feel the bed shift as Erik sat up and his hand brushed my hair until it fell over one shoulder, his fingers tracing the scar on the back of my neck. "Or do you keep convincing yourself that because it's easier than facing the truth?"

"All I know is that violence won't solve anything."

Erik moved forward and wrapped his arms around my middle, resting his forehead on my shoulder. I relaxed into his touch and he pressed a kiss on my skin before speaking. "You know, Simon came to Charles when the fight against Shaw was drawing near. He wanted to make sure that you were safe. He might have asked Charles to look after you, but I always felt like the task was assigned to me."

I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to remain in his arms forever, but his words always seemed to lead to the same conclusion. I moved his arms away from me and turned to him over my shoulder. "Why are you here?"

"Is that what you do every day? Just stay in Charles' mansion and don't go out. Don't even turn on the news."

"Don't… Don't start."

Erik sighed and nodded lowering his arms. As he got up from the bed and moved towards a dark bag resting on a chair by the table, I grabbed my clothes from the floor nearby and scooted to the middle of the bed, pulling the covers closer around me. I pulled the dress – now free from glass and blood – over my head and watched him curiously as he returned with a brown file and extended it towards me.

"What is it?"

"Take a look."

I tentatively flipped open the front cover and immediately wanted to shut the file again. I was met with an organised arrangement of papers, written in such a small print, I had to squint to make out the letters as I flipped through them. Photographs were attached to each bundle of papers, half showing men in military uniforms and the rest, pictures of what looked like civilian men and women, red letters stamped over their photographs: _Declared Missing._ Some, had red crosses drawn in a marker across the photographs and I tried to ignore what their most likely meant.

Across every sheet of paper, there were annotations – underlined, circled words; some pages had entire paragraphs scribbled in the margins. I frowned, recognising the handwriting immediately. The 'n's and 'u's were virtually identical, there was no difference between 'i's and 'e's, letters all extremely slanted to the right and there were irregular gaps between the words, and unnaturally large gaps between letters in single words themselves – no matter how many times I've tried to teach Simon to improve his handwriting, he always reverted to the same, messy scrawl he had used as a child.

As I continued my inspection, Erik began to pace, pulling his clothes on as he spoke. "Those are missing people. More specifically—" He interrupted himself as he pulled on a black turtleneck jumper. "—mutants. The civilians, not the soldiers. Most of the people haven't been found and those who have been found are dead, with signs of torture and painful, prolonged deaths. We believe the soldiers are involved. Working on the orders from up high."

I glanced up at him as he walked back over to me and stood at the foot of the bed. "You think it's the government?"

"No. And yes. I believe it's more than one organisation working either together, or separately. I told Simon it's the government and while I don't think the government is behind the attacks I am currently investigating, there is undoubtedly some involvement with the missing mutants on their part."

I met his eyes and raised an eyebrow, closing the file. "Why are you telling me the truth? Aren't you worried I'll tell your plans to Charles?"

Erik didn't take longer than a second to answer, as if he had rehearsed it in his head a long time ago, knowing I would ask that question. "I will never lie to you. Unlike with Charles, you can always trust me to tell you the truth." He paused, letting those words linger before he continued. "Now, I'm more worried about the group that organises the marches. I will send Simon to go check out the underground, see if any criminal gangs are involved…"

I swallowed and turned away, clenching my jaw. Why did he keep repeating Simon's name, as if he enjoyed the flinch I gave out every time he said it? Erik's words faded and he straightened, crossing his arms. "He misses you, you know."

"If you think that bringing him up is going to make me join your side, you're wrong."

"You should see him."

"Why, so you can lock me up and proclaim to Charles that I have joined your cause?"

Hurt flickered in his eyes and his jaw tightened. I didn't let myself feel guilty for I had spoken the truth. He swallowed and tilted his head to the side. "Is that what you think of me?"

I shook my head, looking down at the file in my hands before placing it on the bed in front of me. "I am not sure what to think."

I moved to stand but when Erik suddenly moved forward, I sat back down. He sat no more than a few feet in front of me, one of his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and the other crossed underneath him. With where and how he sat, he literally had me backed into a corner and I tried to cover my discomfort by leaning back against the headboard. Erik picked up the file and opened it again, spreading the papers photograph-side up on the bed.

"Those people in those files? They're just the ones who've gone missing in this town. Can you imagine how many more there are in this state, in America – in the entire world? Tortured and killed in the most painful ways imaginable." He leaned in even closer and I wanted to move away, but I couldn't. His eyes bored into mine and I couldn't find it in myself to look away, his gaze and the passion and anger behind it, drawing me in. "You still believe that peace is an option, when we're fighting against men who cannot even fathom the meaning of the word?" Slowly, as if unsure how I would react he reached over and placed a palm over my ribs, directly over where he knew the cross-shaped mark was hidden, identical to the one on the back of my neck.

When I didn't answer he reached for my hand but I jumped up, afraid that if he grabbed hold of my arm, I would actually accept the proposal. Suddenly the room felt really small, really warm and I needed air. Fresh air. My brain screamed at me to get out, while my lungs burned with a need for air – the kind of need that simply popping open a window wouldn't satisfy.

So I hurriedly pulled my boots on, then grabbed my coat and put it on, not even bothering to smooth down the collar when it stayed up. By the time I stuffed my hands in my pockets and awkwardly turned to Erik, he was still blinking in confusion at my rapid movements.

Then he scanned me from head to toe, his eyes narrowing, and I tried not to shiver under his stare. "…Nadia?"

"I need to go home."

Erik scoffed, throwing his arms out. "Is that what you call that ridiculous mansion? Home?"

"It's more of a home than I've ever had anywhere else," I shot back, keeping my hands in my pockets but curling them into fists.

He let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes. "Nadia. Please, don't do this. Not now."

"I'm sorry."

Erik clenched his jaw, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes, I nearly shrank back. "Simon misses you. Raven misses you. They think you're dead—" He interrupted himself and quickly shook his head, licking his lips and swallowing before he continued, fighting to keep his frustration from showing. "Please. Come back with me, to others."

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, slowly retreating out of the room. "No, Erik." I grimaced when my voice broke and took in a deep breath to collect myself. "I really, _really_ think that I should go now."

_Get out. Get out. Back to the mansion, back to Charles, Alex, Hank and Sean. Back to the four large, stone walls and the ponds and the trees in the backyard that stretched on for miles. Erik's the enemy. The enemy. Go where it's safe. Get out. Get out. Get out._

"Tell Simon I miss him."

I should have added that Charles missed Raven. That Charles was drinking almost every night because the man he thought to be his best friend, his brother, left him bleeding on the beach with a bullet lodged in his spine and his spirits broken. But none of those words left my lips because I didn't wait for Erik's response and throwing the door open, bolted out of the room, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

"Nadia, wait, don't— Nadia!... _Scheiße!"_

* * *

What awaited me outside was far worse than an angry Erik, most likely hurrying down the stairs after me. The streets were in a midst of chaos, but I didn't realise my mistake until I had stepped onto the road and got swiped away by the crowd, people screaming and running in all directions like cattle who had heard a loud noise in a slaughter house.

The scene was like one of a riot, people scrambling over each other as a large group of people marched on the road. I could hear distant explosions and over the panic it was hard to focus, but I managed to somewhat find a safe spot by a parking meter and I clung onto the small structure with all my life.

The group on the road were all dressed in black clothing, though a few wore military issue jackets, fabrics frayed with wear. All carried guns – though none were pointing them at the civilians – and all had gas masks on their faces, making it easy for them to move forwards even when more explosions went off.

The bombs didn't seem to do much damage, clouds of debris and smoke flying into the street and polluting the air, but it made it increasingly hard for the confused crowd to escape and soon they found themselves trapped.

As the smoke cleared from the latest explosion, there was silence. Cars have stopped, not daring to move while the intimidating group was possessing the street. The silence continued, the armed men stopping. One of the men stepped forward and removed his mask, revealing a face that couldn't have been much older than my own, raising a megaphone to his mouth and addressing the crowd. A large gun swung, carelessly slung over his shoulder.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. We, are the _ULCISCOR._ And we have a message for you all. There is a great sickness shaking the foundations of our country, of our entire world. An infection, a virus." He let his words echo before he grinned and climbed on top of a parked car. He stood on the roof, his legs apart, and continued, "Now, the list of words to describe these freaks can be long and rather extensive and by the time I'm finished it would be night. So there's a simpler term: Mutants. And when I say 'mutants' _every single one_ of you knows what I'm talking about."

There was silence. The man looked at the crowd expectantly until one man, middle aged, stepped forward. "Where's your proof?"

The younger man blinked, lowering his megaphone and speaking in his normal voice. "Excuse me?"

The man continued to approach him and only stopped when he was in front of him, the man in black towering over him. "I want proof that those so called 'mutants' exist. You hooligans and your government officials and paranoid shopkeepers throw the word around like it means something. Well, I don't believe you. My family and friends don't believe you. Most of the goddamn United States of America and the rest of the world don't believe you." By the end of his speech he was red in the face, but he continued to puff out his chest bravely. "Where is your proof?"

As he breathed heavily, the younger man gritted his teeth. His fingers twitched, like he was getting ready to go for his gun but a different man walked over from the group invading the streets. He only stopped when he stood directly in front of the older man whose eyes warily glanced down at the submachine gun he was holding. The man removed his own mask, revealing shockingly bright, blood-red hair and I frowned as he leaned forward to the older man, whispering something into his ear.

At first, as the older man straightened up and frowned at him, nothing happened. But then he cried out in horror, stumbling back. "No, no, no," he screamed over and over again, shaking like a leaf.

The red-haired man merely smirked and walked back to his own group, the wind ruffling his coat. One of the men stopped in his way and asked, "What did you say to the old man?" He was ignored as his comrade simply continued walking past him, disappearing behind the others.

A different man emerged from the crowd of civilians, dressed in a suit. He stomped over to the car, his tie swinging wildly in the wind, demanding, "What the hell did you do to this poor man?" The older man was still screaming and crawling away. Only when he reached the side of the road and a building did he calm, collapsing against the wall, eyes wide.

Instead of answering him, the man who first took off his mask tossed aside the megaphone – it was caught by one of the men still wearing their own gas mask – and climbed down from the car. He strolled over to the suit and raising his gun, slammed the back of it against the side of his face. People gasped as the man collapsed to the ground and the one who knocked him out simply stepped over him and proceeded to walk further down the road with a slight swing to his step, others following.

I nodded to myself and began to move in the opposite direction to try and get away from this scene. I had enough. I had seen enough similar scenes on the news to know how they ended. Dozens injured, a handful dead.

"Nadia!"

I ignored Erik's call of my voice and began to move faster, squeezing past people who were still frozen with shock after what had taken place. I didn't expect for a hand to wrap around my wrist and tug me backwards. As Erik spun me around, I opened my mouth, ready to yell at him – not yet sure what, I just felt like I really need to shout – but the words died in my throat when I caught sight of something over his shoulder. Or someone.

A young man was moving along the crowd of masked gunmen, his mask off and a knife twirling in his hands. He carried himself with a slight air of authority, observing the events around him with a small smirk on his lips. I froze as he turned his head to the front, his eyes scanning the area before they landed on me and widened. He stopped mid-step, blinking as if he couldn't believe his eyes. And when recognition flickered on his face, his gaze hardened.

My blood ran cold and I swallowed, taking an involuntary step back as the man resumed his walking, pace fast and headed straight for me.

_No. Not him. Please, anyone but him._

I didn't even react when Erik had caught hold of me again, and I could tell more by the yell of my name rather than the grip he had on my upper arm. He was speaking, saying something that sounded like an apology but I couldn't register his words.

"No… Robert…"

_It wasn't him. It couldn't have been him. It couldn't._

"Robert? Who's Robert?" This once, my ears stopped ringing for a moment just to hear Erik's confused tone.

I heard the question, yes, but his words didn't seem to mean anything. I pulled my arm out of his grip and took a couple more steps back, shaking my head. My eyes were so wide I felt like they would pop out of their sockets. My chest rose and fell with my quick breaths and my throat burned but I couldn't cover my mouth as my hands lay limply by my side.

Just as Robert was no more than a couple of yards away, an explosion erupted from a building between us, to the side.

I was separated from Erik, the two of us flying opposite directions and then landing roughly on the pavement. People scurried away from the blast, covering their eyes and ears. After a few moments of seeing stars, I managed to shakily rise to my feet, my back on fire from the hard landing, and wave the cloud of smoke away, coughing. And when I looked up, the first clear thing I saw was _him._

The young man stared, walking forward as if the explosion had never taken place, then raised his hand and pointed the knife straight at me. "Get her!"

The last thing I saw prior to my world turning black were his grey eyes narrowing in a murderous, predatory look, before a bag was thrown over my head, and a sharp, sweet gas invaded my lungs.

* * *

**A/N: I took the elements of Erik's backstory from the info I could find on the comics (aka multiple Wikia pages because I am far too lazy with research.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Simon

**Simon.**

* * *

"Simon, did you hear any of that?"

I shook my head and let out a small laugh, licking my lips. I sent Erik a humourless smile and raised a finger to my temple. "This is what going mad feels like, isn't it? This— This is what I get for not sleeping for five days in a row."

Erik let out an aggravated sigh. "Simon, I'm not lying to you. Nadia is alive."

"...Alive? You have just told me that she has been captured by an anti-mutant organisation – nice work, keeping her safe, by the way—"

"Simon, I already said I'm sorry—"

"—which means that she is most likely dead, or is being killed as we speak," I finished, throwing the mutant in front of me a small glare. "Again."

Erik had a very,_ very_ strange definition of 'good news'.

It was impossible. Nadia couldn't have been alive. We were at the beach when Charles yelled out her name, revealing to us all the moment she had been shot. He was a telepath for Christ's sake, he would know if Nadia was truly dead, wouldn't he? And even if she was still alive and kicking when she fell into the ocean, there was no logical way that she had survived. Mutant powers or not.

But as Erik continued to give me that icy, intense stare, I had to slowly begin to accept that he was indeed telling the truth. He wasn't supposed to be back for a couple of days, after all, and here he was in front of me, rambling. I had collapsed into a foldout chair, any stability that I had built over the last couple of months crashing down around me.

Nadia was alive. She had experienced temporary amnesia but now was all in one piece – well, according to Erik. He ran into her in town and the two argued because she wanted to go back to Charles but before she could escape, that damned anti-mutant organisation we had been trying to track down for weeks decided to pay the streets of this fine city another visit. And now I had to listen to Erik babble on for five whole minutes, his eyes wide and his skin pale, as he described every details of what he witnessed: the masked men putting a bag over her head, spraying something into her face and dragging her into an alley way.

What in the hell was I supposed to say to _that?_

"There's something else."

I let out a strangled, desperate laugh, not even bothering to look up at him. "What could be worse than what you already told me?"

"I think she knew him. The guy she saw at the riot."

I blinked and slowly raised my head, giving him a confused look. "How would Nadia know a man who's leading an anti-mutant protest?" That is the last type of person Nadia would make friends with – and she was always terrible at making friends in the first place.

Erik couldn't offer me more than a shrug at which I scowled. "I don't know, but she did. She knew his name, and she was scared as hell of him."

Now that confused me even more. I slowly rose from the seat, raising an eyebrow. "Afraid?... What did he look like? What was his name?"

Erik sighed and began to pace, putting his hands on his hips. "Tall, younger than you. Brown hair. The name she said was 'Robert', I think. It was hard to hear over the commotion." He rubbed his ear as if to illustrate the point.

The moment the name left his lips I could have choked on empty air. I only knew of one Robert in my entire life and the vague physical description, even if last time I've seen him as a sourly teenager, fit him perfectly. I clenched my fists and moved away from the table to the side, afraid that if I didn't put some distance between myself and the furniture, I would lose control and flip it over along with the entire tent.

"Robert?" I asked again, hating the way his name rolled off my tongue. I could remember reading, a long time ago that it meant something along the lines of 'bright fame'. The discovery had made me want to throw the book at the wall, then rip it to pieces. The Robert I knew didn't deserve that name.

"Yes," Erik nodded in confirmation.

"Son of a bitch!" I growled, burying my hands in my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut and tugged, feeling like I was ready to explode with anger.

"You know him?"

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears and opened my eyes to give him another tight, humourless smile. "Know him?... Robert is her brother!"

* * *

"You should have seen her," Erik insisted, resting his weight on the table with his hands. I raised an eyebrow, looking over at him across the table we were standing around, a large map stretched out on the surface. "She's like a child who's lost her mother at a fair."

I chuckled, but the sound soon turned into a grimace. Nadia had only been to a fair with her parents once, and according to her, she had dragged her parents and her little brother – what the hell had gone wrong in his development to make him turn out the way that he did – to every single ride there was and ate her bodyweight in candyfloss. Then she woke up the next day with a cold and stomach flu and vowed to never go to any such place again.

A year later her parents found out she was a mutant, so I suppose the vow was rather easy to keep.

"I still think I can convince her to join us," Erik muttered, so low that I wasn't sure if he had intended for me to hear it. I responded nevertheless, with a raised eyebrow.

"No, Erik, you can't. You don't know her like I do. She has that stupid, naïve kind of stubbornness. She's on Charles side when it comes to this and neither of us might like it, but it's the truth."

Erik returned my look, pushing his point. "Don't you think that being held and tortured might change that?"

"Oh, trust me; she's been through plenty of torturing in her life." I bit my lip, remembering the state I would discover her in during those rare times I would find a chance to sneak in and check that she's still alive. But then again, I had to agree with Erik to some extent. Her father was cruel, and even as a child, Robert took remarkably after him. And now, to find out that he was leading, or was at least high up in the chain of command in the organisation we were trying to track down? The secret group of men – and women too maybe, they very rarely took of their gas masks – notorious for causing chaos and riots in the streets, secretly kidnapping and torturing Mutants just to feed the hatred in their empty hearts? All of a sudden, it had turned personal. I knew that not trying to track Robert and his mother down would come back to bite me in the ass one day. "We need to get her out. Rob— _He_ is going to kill her. He hates her as much as I hate him."

Erik offered me a sympathetic look, one that I appreciated even if it did little to calm me down. "I want to get her just as much as you do. But we need a plan," he said slowly, accentuating each word.

"She is going to be dead by the time we find a plan!"

"Curious... I took you for an optimist, Simon."

"Oh, trust me, I am as optimistic as they can get. But what I am not, is an idiot."

Erik rolled his eyes while I tried to return mine to the map. The lines blurred and I tiredly rubbed my face to try and clear them.

"Simon! Listen to me!" I swallowed and threw Erik a pointed look. I did a quick double-take of his face, only then noticing the cut on his eyebrow and the bruise on his right cheekbone. "We don't know where they are. We don't know what they're planning. You said you can go underground, can you do it tonight."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my other hand still on the table nearly collapsing under the weight it had to hold up. "I don't know what I can do to help."

"Sniff them out. Those guys – nobody knows who they really are or where they come from. There has to be a government connection. Look through those files you found again, I'm sure we'll find something."

I nodded in resignation, still feeling the stress bringing forth a piercing headache. When I heard footsteps I looked up to see that Erik had begun pacing again. He has been doing that a lot lately, but it was still always surprising to see. "And what will _you_ do?"

Erik smirked. "I have my own connections. And I also," he moved back to the table and put his fingers on one of the red circles on the map, "have an idea where you could start."

* * *

I turned the corner on the street, my hands in the pockets of my coat and my shoulders square, dodging a couple passing by and offering them a fake smile.

I looked up at the dark sky and took in a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air. It might have been cleaner back at our camp in the woods, but I grew up in a tightly packed city, and urban areas were where I belonged. Where I truly felt at home.

A long night loomed ahead. I was used to gathering information by now, and had helped Erik find what he needed many times, especially when what he needed was locked up in a steel safe – protected by countless security measures. It wasn't really that different from my days working under Bowler Hat back in England.

Sure, Emma Frost could have found any information we needed in a blink of an eye, but I didn't trust her. Never will. And besides, I could physically carry out the official files – the fact that their mysterious disappearances made the government suspect there was a mole in their midst, never failed to amuse me. Or, you know, when the men in their tight, shiny uniforms freak out when they see the doors opening and closing by themselves.

I think I might have convinced one or two that their place of work was haunted.

I stopped and eyed the bar across the street warily. It looked like a regular bar enough, albeit it couldn't have been more than a couple decades old. I couldn't sense any suspicious activity around it, just some off-duty sailors and regular folks enjoying a late evening out. But if it turned out to be a dead end, then at least I'd have the excuse to grab a couple of drinks. So I shrugged and crossed the street, freeing one of my hands so I could push open the door.

Now inside the bar, things were entirely different. Erik's suspicions were right. Even if this wasn't a hangout place for members of the anti-mutant organisation, it was riddled with traces of gang activity.

One of the windows had a crack in it, most likely from a stone thrown at it from a moving car, maybe a bike. A framed painting of sunflowers was covering up a fresh job of paint on a wall, where plaster, still drying, was used to cover the recent bullet holes. Two guys in the corner were discussing contraband of drugs and the nonchalant looking fellow a few tables over was actually their lookout for any undesired eyes and ears.

I strolled over to the bar, choosing a seat on the very end, and ordered a pint of beer, scanning the barman from head to toe as he turned to grab a glass. I had to lower my head to hide my smirk as he turned back to pour the pint; a Walther P38 was stuffed through the belt at the back of his trousers. I could bet that if I jumped over the counter, I would spy a military issue rifle stashed away somewhere.

I smiled and thanked for the beer, taking a large sip. Catching a distorted reflection of someone to my side, I set the beer down and chanced a look through the corners of my eyes and grinned – lo and behold, a familiar face.

"You know, I don't think this is a good place for a nice lad like yourself," I began, taking another sip. The look on Alex's face when he turned and saw who was by the bar next to him was priceless. I offered him a sly smile and inclined the glass in a toast. "Dangerous people about."

"You," he growled, his eyes narrowing and his hands clenching into fists. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

I mock-frowned and looked around the bar, cocking an eyebrow at the younger man. "Uh, I believe I was here first."

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Oh, are we splitting up the country now? Because if that's the case, then I call dibs on Texas."

Alex jumped from his seat, his fist swinging at my face. I blocked it and using his own momentum against him, spun us around and knocked him into a wall, one of my arms pressed against his neck and the other hand pulling out my switchblade and pressing it against his hip. He didn't notice the knife until it cut through his t-shirt and the cold blade met his skin.

I grinned as nobody around us moved a muscle. That's why I loved bars like this: they let you exchange a couple of punches before they jump in to break it up, and one guy slamming another into a wall to threaten him a little is nothing more than a pat on the shoulder to watchful eyes.

"Now," I began, smirking when Alex glared and struggled against the hold, clawing at the arm pinning his neck to the wall. "What are _you _doing here?"

Alex attempted to get free a couple more times before he gave up, letting out an annoyed breath. "I'm here to look for Nadia."

"Why?"

When Alex didn't answer at first, I pressed the knife against his skin, not drawing blood, but hard enough for it to feel uncomfortable. He grimaced and words left his mouth like a waterfall. "She was supposed to get back in the morning, but she didn't. We called every hotel in the area and none of them had any record of her checking in. It was when we saw the news that we figured she must have been caught in the commotion and gotten hurt. Or worse. So Charles sent me out to look for her."

I pulled a face, feigning disappointment. "And you're looking for her in a place like this? Does it look like she's here?"

He opened his mouth to retort but blinked and shook his head, his eyes wide. "Wait— You know that she's alive?"

"News travel fast."

Alex clenched his jaw, training me with a level look. I tilted my head to the side and he frowned. "I answered your question. Now it's your turn. What are you doing here?"

I cracked a grin, removing the switchblade and stuffing it in the pocket of my coat, but didn't remove my hold on the blonde. "Same thing as you: looking for Nadia."

"Why, so you can take her back to Magneto?"

I wanted to laugh. Poor kid really had no idea what was going on, did he? "No."

Alex blinked in confusion again, clearly not having expected the answer he received. "I… I don't follow."

For a second, I actually considered explaining the things to him, but then again…

"Go home, kid. It's past your bedtime. Erik and I will save Nadia ourselves. Hell, we'll even send her back to you wrapped up nicely like a present."

Alex's face contorted with anger and he attempted to get free again. I pouted, wondering what I could have said to set him off. "She's your friend."

"Exactly. She is _my _best friend, my sister, not yours. Do you think that just because we're on different sides, that's going to change?" Alex glared, gritting his teeth and I leaned forward, hissing." Tell Charles that he should be thankful that I won't just bring her back with me. Unless she wants to, of course."

Alex surveyed me warily, a little calmer, curious. "Why?"

"Why? Because I trust her. And I respect her choices, even if they're as stupid as joining Charles and... you." I threw him a disgusted look and let go off him, taking a step back. Alex straightened and breathed heavily, his expression cold. "You don't stand a chance against the guys who got Nadia. You don't have the skills to fight them; you don't even know where to start. So do us both a favour and go back to your pretty little palace and don't get in our way."

Alex looked absolutely livid but I disappeared before he could open his mouth to yell at me. I watched, never having moved from my spot as he looked around the bar in search for me and after not being able to find me, stormed out of the bar and into the dark street outside.

I rolled my shoulders, letting out a small laugh and was just about to turn visible again and finish off my beer when a boisterous laugh interrupted the otherwise rather calm atmosphere of the bar.

I froze, slowly turning around, and when I laid eyes on the owner of the loud voice, my blood boiled. Robert. I would recognise his stupid face anywhere. The bastard strolled into the bar, waving at everyone and throwing smiles left and right, yelling out for drinks like he's the King of the place.

It took me all had to remain invisible and not stalk over to him and torture out of him the information on Nadia's whereabouts then and there.

With him were two other men. One a mousy guy with short brown hair and bright blue eyes, his coat two sizes too big, and the other with hair such an alarming shade of red that I would have spotted it a mile away. I lumbered back to my seat and sat down, anxiously tapping my foot on the ground.

But as it turned out, Robert and his 'bodyguards' didn't plan to stay and drink what they've ordered. Instead, the trio nodded to the barman and moved to the door in the back of the room.

I rose from my seat in interest and followed them carefully. The red-haired man was the last one to go through the door – I thought I heard Robert refer to him as 'Eli' – making sure that nobody was following before he too disappeared behind the door. I slowly approached it and pressed my head against the door, frowning when I couldn't hear a single noise. What kind of back room was it? I pushed the door open to reveal a small crack of light and peered through and what I saw made me frown, pushing the door open fully and stopping it from closing with my foot.

It wasn't a back room at all. Instead, I was faced with two stairwells. The one going up, mirrored the décor of the pub. Wooden stairs leading to the floor above and faded, wine coloured wallpaper. The stairs going down however couldn't have been more different. The walls abruptly took on the colour of plain concrete and fluorescent lamps lining the ceiling only made the room below look colder. The basement looked like it belonged to a military base, not a pub.

Or a pub sitting on some secret underground facility.

Perhaps Erik was right after all. This _was _a good place to start.

Softly shutting the door behind me I moved to walk down the stairs. I had only taken a few steps when I could hear the echoing sound of a single pair of feet approaching. From the floor below, the red-haired guy turned the corner and began to walk towards me. I pressed myself against the wall, thankful that this 'Eli' guy seemed far too preoccupied with his feet. I held my breath as he reached the landing and moving towards the staircase to go up, moving past me.

Once he was half way up the upper staircase I breathed a sigh of relief and quietly began to sneak down the stairs to the strange basement.

I certainly didn't expect for the redhead to jump over the railing straight onto me and grab me by the shoulders, causing me to lose balance and both of us to tumble the rest of the way down the stairs.

The moment we made it to the spacious corridor I was slammed against the wall with his hand around my neck. I choked, feeling the air supply being cut off and out of instinct one of my legs flew forward, kicking Eli in the stomach. He grunted and stumbled back, letting go of me in the process. I allowed myself to take two deep breaths before I aimed a punch at his face. It connected the first time, but as I swing my other hand, he blocked it in his palm and using his grip on me, head-butted me in the face.

My vision swam but even so I managed to duck the punch he aimed at me and using his own speed against him I spun him around and threw my arms around him in a chokehold, holding my breath as I squeezed as hard as I could.

Those must have been the longest minutes of my life.

Eli flailed, clawing at my grip and my face but soon his movements turned sloppy and stopped altogether, his form limp. I looked down and freed one of my hands to flick him in the face. When he didn't react, I breathed a sigh of relief and dropped him to the floor.

_Okay, Simon. Don't panic. Retreat. You can't take on all the soldiers that are most likely scattered in this huge basement. Make the smart move: Retreat and report the situation to Erik._

Looking down at the man's unconscious body I kicked him one last time for insurance before running as fast as I could up the stairs, through the bar, and into the street outside. I didn't stop running until I couldn't recognise the road I was on.

I knew that the entire time since Alex left the bar, I had remained in full control of my abilities. I was invisible.

So how the hell could he see me?

As I slowed to a brisk walk, I slapped myself on the forehead. Nevermind any of that. I was tired, I reminded myself. Very tired and therefore less self-aware. That was all.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, if anyone's still wondering what I meant by "a face from the past"... I meant Robert. Remember him? Yeah...**


	7. Chapter 7 - ULCISCOR

**A/N: Okay, so I'm trying this out. I realised the restriction of writing from 1st person's point of view is that there will actually be stuff in this chapter that neither Simon nor Nadia know. So this might come off as confusing. But bear with me, the reason why I'm writing chapters labelled 'ULCISCOR' in 3rd Person's point of view will be revealed later.  
Also, IMPORTANT, I'm still publishing this fic as I write it, but I realise now that even though I will not go directly into the plot of Days of Future Past, some things that happen in this fic could be considered as spoilers for the film, even if it's more of a plot point that happens before the film takes place. Still, no matter how small the irrelevant the spoilers might be, I still thought I should put in the warning. So if you haven't seen Days of Future Past and don't want it spoiled, I suggest to not read further than this for now, just in case. (Sorry, paranoid person over here)**

* * *

**ULCISCOR**

* * *

Eli groaned, blinking against the harsh lights of the ceiling in the basement corridor. He let his vision adjust and then sat up abruptly, looking left and right and breathing out a sigh of relief when he had confirmed that he was alone.

He slowly rose to his feet, and rubbing the neck still sore from Simon's attack, turned to the right corridor. He walked slowly, cherishing the sound of each footstep echoing throughout the hallway, until he stopped at the first door to the right. Cracking his neck, he raised one of his fists to the door and gently knocked eight times, in unison with a clock's second hand.

An_ ULCISCOR _member opened the door and scanning Eli from head to toe, stepped aside and let him in. Eli nodded his head in thanks and moved into the room filled with the rest of his comrades.

Many were still dressed in their clothes from when they caused chaos on the streets earlier that day. The black fabrics covered in dust and debris – the men didn't seem to care. Their gas masks were tossed away on any flat surface, carelessly discarded until they would be needed again. There was a pool table and two men were having an intense game, and the radio was on, soft music drifting throughout.

Eli moved past all the men, nodding politely to those who had greeted him. The smell of smoke and alcohol invaded his nose. As he reached the end of the room, nearing their leader, the chatter of others seemed to be little more than background noise.

Robert was bent over a table, staring intently at a spot on a map. He and Eli were the only ones out of their _ULCISCOR_ clothing, Robert dressed in a pair of jeans, a blue shirt and a leather jacket. Eli's clothing mirrored his, only his shirt was the exact same colour as his hair and contrasted starkly with his pale skin.

Robert looked up when Eli came forward, raising an eyebrow. "Where were you?"

Eli yawned and dropped himself into a chair by the table, crossing his arms. "Sorry," he shrugged guiltily, "I fell behind."

Robert nodded, turning back to the map. It was large, completely covering the large dinner table and falling onto the ground. It was entirely scribbled on with red writing, barely any space left white. Robert unsheathed a knife and imbedded it on a location just outside a city.

Eli raised an eyebrow, sitting up so he could note it down in his head. "Is that the place?"

Robert nodded, straightening up and folding his own arms over his chest, licking his lips. "The guy called me and said he can give us the names and location of two mutant brothers."

"Has he named a price?"

Robert threw him a pointed look. "All of them name a price. We ain't gonna pay."

"So…" Eli leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the table, crossing one foot over the other. Robert glanced at his shoes on the map but did not make a comment. "We tell him we accept the terms. Meet up with him, and after he points out the mutants, we shoot him."

"And the body?"

"I know a guy."

Robert looked back down at the map with a smirk. "I knew I made you second in command for something." His smile fell and a frown pulled at his lips. "This is worth it. This is right."

"Of course it is," Eli reassured him, offering him a small smile. "To get through a thousand bad guys you might have to slay a few good ones that get in the way—"

"I know that," Robert interrupted irritably, resting his hands on the table, clenching them into fists. "It's just that the foot soldiers are complaining."

Eli glanced around the room before shrugging. "They don't seem to be complaining to me."

"They say that they're getting bored. It takes too long for us to find mutants."

"That is true." Eli gladly accepted a glass of whiskey that a woman passed to him with a sultry smile. He winked at her before turning back to Robert, raising the glass to his lips. "But look at it this way, when we prove that mutants exist, and that they're dangerous, the government will have no choice but to pass some act that forces all mutants to register. Then it'll be like taking a candy from a baby." He took a sip, a smirk pulling at his lips.

In the background, one of the men made a joke and the entire room burst into laughter. Eli glanced at them over his shoulder curiously.

Robert stared emptily into space before looking up and moving away from the table, walking towards the door, grabbing a glass bottle filled with water on his way out.

Eli watched him leave, a questioning look in his eyes. "Where are you going?" he called to his leader's retreating back.

"To check on our honoured guest!"

* * *

Robert entered a dark room, making sure to move the door as quietly as possible as the metal hinges creaked. He closed the door and locked it and for a short moment, he was enveloped in darkness. Until he felt at the wall and flicked a switch, turning on the light: a single light bulb swinging back and forth by a wire connected to the ceiling.

The room, was the same as many others in their headquarters. Plain and cold. The only source of ventilation was a broken fan in the faraway corner. All of the walls, as well as the floor and the ceiling were cement. Cold stone. The room looked like a cleared or an abandoned warehouse – if warehouses were built in basements under the surface of the earth, that is.

Robert took in a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes before he turned to the only piece of furniture in the room. And on that old, thick wooden chair, placed right in the middle of the room, rested a form clad in a black dress. Her head rested on her own shoulder, her blonde hair covering her face. Her hands were bound behind the back of the chair, rope was wrapped five times around her waist and over the back of the chair, preventing her from escaping. Even her ankles were bound.

Robert placed the water bottle down and took off his coat, throwing it on a hook on the wall. He rolled up his sleeves, on by one, never taking his eyes off the sleeping girl. Picking up the bottle from the floor he slowly approached the girl, his footsteps as silent as if he had been walking on clouds, and stopped a few steps away, looming over her. She didn't stir. He opened the bottle and proceeded to tip it until water was pouring onto the girl's head. She gasped, startled awake but as she blinked against the water running down her face, Robert didn't stop, continuously pouring the water on her head until the bottle was free from every last drop.

He took a step back, satisfied with his work, and threw the bottle into the wall over the girl's shoulder. She flinched, biting her tongue.

Robert rocked on his heels and linked his arms behind his back. Nadia Smith, his sister, glared up at him through strands of her hair sticking to her face.

"So, did you like the display on the street in front of that fancy hotel?" he began, completely disregarding any introductions. They both knew exactly who each of them were and thus introductions were pointless. He turned to the side and began to pace, slowly placing one foot before the other as he circled her. "I think it was the first show you've seen, you looked so shocked." He grinned, he himself pleased with the way the day's events have gone exactly as he planned. With a few pleasant surprises, even. "Guess who organised it?"

"You?" Nadia offered, as an answer to his question.

It was hard to say anything else. In the dark room, her little brother appeared even clearer than he had on the street amongst the chaos. His grey eyes, very much like her own, stared down at her with a steely gaze. He was barely a man, but he stood tall. He looked like the spitting image of his father in his younger days – which was the main reason why Nadia found it hard to look at him for long periods of time. The same broad shoulders and strong jaw. The same colour scheme. All he was missing was a military uniform.

"Of course. I'm the man in charge. The big number one. I pull all the strings." Robert smirked and motioned to their surroundings but she couldn't see him for he had been walking behind her back. "I _created_ this movement. Back in England, only a few years after I left you burning in that house." He paused, taking a step forward, chewing on his bottom lip. "By the way, how did you survive?" Nadia didn't respond, but then again, he wasn't waiting for an answer. "No, wait. Never mind. It was that orphan boy, wasn't it? I should've known that freaks are drawn to freaks. Anyway – I started this movement soon after mother and I escaped. Within a year, believe it or not, we not only had a rather substantial amount of sympathisers and members, but also a handful of some very powerful friends." He turned to his sister and opened his arms. "So here I am, in the land of Freedom. I like it better, don't you? England has such bleak weather."

Nadia rolled her eyes and licked her dry lips, "What do you want?"

Robert chuckled, dropping his hands to his sides. "Uh… You're gonna have to be a little more specific, big sister." There were many things he wanted.

"Why am I here?"

"Because I want you to be here. I mean, I missed you. I really have. Last time I saw you it was…" He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a whistle. "Wow. It was back when you've just finished turning daddy dearest into a pile of dust."

Nadia swallowed nervously, trying to shift in her seat but the ropes kept her completely still. Robert's eyes pierced her deeper than any knife or bullet had done. "What will you do to me?"

Robert shrugged, turning around. "No idea. Haven't decided yet." As he moved under the light, Nadia noted that his hair, previously a light brown, almost a bronze shade, was almost black now. "I didn't exactly have time to prepare for a reunion with my long lost sister."

He said those words slowly, turning back around. Then he moved forward and brushed her hair out of her face. Nadia flinched away but he either didn't notice or he didn't care. Robert crouched in front of her and was now made to look up at her.

"Can you hear it?" He asked with a secret smile, pointing to the ceiling. "It's sometimes hard to hear it. It's not as loud as thunder or lightning but, trust me, it's coming."

Nadia frowned, raising her chin to give him a distrustful look. "What is coming?" she asked carefully, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Robert's smile widened. "The truth. The reveal." He rose to his full height, gesturing with his hands as if directing an orchestra with each word. "The big reveal. The curtains rises!" He grinned and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring down at her. "Do you know what '_ULCISCOR_' means?" Nadia continued to stare at him, not speaking. Robert gave her an irritated look. "Seriously? We both went to Christian schools." Still no response. He sighed in disappointment and offered her a sad smile. "Vengeance. It means 'vengeance'." He let his words sink in as he leaned forward until Nadia and he were eye to eye. His voice was an angry whisper. "_This_ is my vengeance. Against you. Against other monsters like you."

He held her gaze until Nadia couldn't take it anymore and lowered her head guiltily. Robert believed it was her fault she killed their father, and she couldn't blame him. It _was_ her fault.

Robert straightened up again, looking at her with disgust. But when she looked back up again, he transformed it to a proud expression, standing tall and proud.

"It's really not as easy as it looks to be a leader, especially when people outside these walls still don't believe in what we know. But no worry – that will change soon. The world will know that mutants bag our food, live in our homes and teach our children. That those… _freaks… _walk amongst us, waiting for the next opportunity to hurt the ones we love. The truth will come to light, like it always does. And when the world finally knows all of it… When the world _truly _knows the truth… There will be a reckoning."


	8. Chapter 8 - ULCISCOR

**ULCISCOR**

* * *

Robert circled around Nadia slowly, his bottom lip between his teeth and his hands clenched into fists so tightly, his nails were digging into his palms with enough pressure to leave marks.

"You know, our father thought you were possessed," he rambled on, his eyes not once landing on his sister. "That there was a demon inside you, that you were a witch – even when all his hocus-pocus didn't work, he still believed his own delusions. He used to say to me," he paused momentarily to chuckle and lower his voice in an exaggerated impersonation of his father, "'Pray to God every night, Robert, or you'll end up selling your soul to the Devil, like your sister did'. Ridiculous." He scoffed, shaking his head and slowing to a stop, and turned to Nadia for the first time since he had entered the room. "But you're not a witch. This is nothing to do with God. You're just a freak, a genetic mistake – evolution gone wrong."

Eli raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall near the door with crossed arms. "You do realise she can't hear you, right?"

Nadia was unconscious – or asleep, he couldn't quite tell from that far away – and she hadn't stirred even the slightest when Robert kicked open the door so hard, there was a dent in it in the shape of his foot. But that didn't discourage the young man from pacing around Nadia like he was a jungle cat stalking its prey.

Robert let out an irritated breath and ran a hand through his hair, throwing Eli a sarcastic smile over his shoulder. "Yes. I know. Thank you, for reminding me."

Eli shrugged innocently, inclining his head towards the girl. "Is she even alive?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Just unconscious."

Eli's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Then why are you talking to her?"

"Because it helps _me_," Robert snapped, giving him an annoyed look. "Why are you questioning me?"

Eli shrugged again, shifting his weight from foot to another, holding back a smile. "Oh, I honestly don't care how you spend your free time, Rob. It's just that some might think it... odd."

"Well then I guess I'm lucky that you're not going to tell anyone," Robert retorted, resuming walking around his sister but this time, in silence.

Eli tilted his head to the side, watching him curiously. Robert was usually very well put together and calm, always wearing a smile while his eyes carefully calculated his surroundings – perfectly in control of his emotions. He did appear borderline neurotic at times, but so subtly that only Eli noticed. Others saw him only as the great leader that he was, despite how young he looked. Despite the fact he was barely a man.

Since his sister was captured, Robert was more silent than he used to be. Lost in his thoughts. It was a character trait Eli quickly picked up, but with Nadia around his silences were longer, more serious. In all the time they spent together, Eli never saw the younger man so… angry. Truly angry, his very core was shaking, like a volcano about to erupt and lay siege to any civilisations that have settled at its feet. Eli would almost go as far as to say that in the last few days, Robert had been on the verge of losing control. He spoke quickly and loudly – often resulting in his commands having to be repeated – and seemed to retreat from the group whereas he used to be at the centre of the action, whether here at the base, or out on the streets.

It was like looking at a different man, and with a week having passed since Nadia was captured, he also looked the part. The circles under his eyes were darker, showing that he barely slept and his hair stuck up from him running his hands through it one too many times.

Robert had told Eli about Nadia – he was the only one that Robert trusted with the information. But it seemed to Eli now that despite Roberts's generally calm appearance, it was his anger that drove him. Most of the men and women who had joined them, joined only for violence. They would shout racial slurs and say they hate this and that, but at the end of the day they just wanted to cause chaos.

Robert's anger was concentrated, loaded and pointed at a specific target.

It almost amused Eli. He didn't expect Robert to be a bitter little boy at heart.

Set on distracting his leader from becoming lost in his own head again, Eli asked, "Who dressed her?" Nadia had been changed from her dress to a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a black, knitted jumper that was too big for her. Only her hands were tied at the moment, and instead of being slumped on the chair she was lying down on an old mattress.

Robert glanced at him sharply, as if surprised that he had spoken and then shrugged. "A couple of the girls takes her to the bathroom every morning and evening. Not that I care about her personal hygiene, but I'd rather the entire base didn't stink of her more than it does already. They must have changed her."

Eli raised one eyebrow, his eyes darting to Nadia's still form and back to Robert. "You allowed them to see to her?"

"Everyone here is under strict orders not to harm her," Robert said in one breath, as if reciting it from a book, and glanced at Eli with a pointed look. "You as well."

Eli raised his hands to show that he understood the command but smirked and soon folded them over his chest again. "Why is she not using her mutation to get out? It's been days. I expected the whole place to be flooded by now."

Robert's reply seemed nonchalant, but Eli suspected that he was anything but calm. "I don't know. There isn't really any water around, I guess." In truth, Robert didn't have the slightest idea. Perhaps it was because she had actually remained unconscious for most of the time, once she realised that escaping was useless – she had gotten free of the ropes once but didn't even make it past two rooms before she was tackled to the ground. She didn't hesitate to fight back, but when she was fully restrained, she didn't use her abilities to get free. Robert knew from the moment she first laid eyes on him that she would not hurt him. His words cut deep and she accepted each blow, looking down in guilt. Good. He wanted her to feel guilty. He wanted for that feeling to eat her alive.

"What are you planning to do with her?" Eli asked slowly, noticing that Robert had crouched down in front of Nadia, glaring heatedly at her face.

"I don't know yet."

Eli resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Others will get curious. Usually we just torture them for information on other mutants and then kill them." He eyed some of the bruises that were peeking out from under the girl's sleeves, and the cut on her bottom lip and on the left eyebrow. "Now I can see you had your fair share of the first… And I know that you're still shuffling your feet like your favourite football team lost a match, which means she told you nothing. It's clear that she won't give out the location of her friends. So why keep her around?"

"I _could _just kill her," Robert agreed, but he said it so quietly, Eli barely caught it. "But killing her is too little of a punishment," he sighed, louder this time, and rose to his full height, crossing his arms. He glanced at Eli's questioning look and shook his head. "I'll figure it out. You don't need to worry about that."

"Just want make sure that our fearsome leader had his focus on the right matter," Eli said testily.

"Oh, your leader's head is turned exactly where he's supposed to be looking," Robert assured him, throwing Nadia one last look before turning to walk out of the room. "Come on, let's get this meeting over and done with."

Eli nodded, but made sure that Robert left the room first before exiting himself, and allowing Robert to lock the heavy door after them.

* * *

The meeting had been going on for over an hour and Robert was balancing on the back two legs of his chair, boredly counting the amount of broken lights on the ceiling. People were speaking over each other, throwing suggestions left and right but every word was no more than a background buzz. A flock of bees flying above his head – or around the room, for as he sat at the head of the table, the people that listened to his every command surrounded the table as if they wanted to breathe the very same air as him.

The _ULCISCOR_ came up with a joined decision: they needed to do something big. Bigger than marches and explosions and yelling speeches through megaphones. Something that make people believe. But _how _to do it? Now that was the real question. He had a few ideas of course, but he wanted to see how smart the others in the room where. To see what ideas they could come up with.

So when one of them finally mentioned to stage an assassination and throw the blame on the mutants, his ears perked up, his interest tickled.

Eli straightened up too, crossing his arms. "And who would you suggest we assassinate?"

An ordinary looking man stepped forward, shrugging, dressed in jeans and a white shirt instead of the dark clothing most of the people in the room wore. "What about Kennedy?"

Robert steadied his chair, raising an eyebrow. "The Attorney General?"

The guy was aiming high, he had to give him that. But a doubting thought reminded him that it wouldn't be easy. It's not like they could simply stroll up to the top law enforcement officer and the lawyer to the government, and point the gun at him. Especially since despite his unusual climb to power – meaning holding onto his big brother's sleeve of presidential suits the entire time – he did have a great influence over the policies. Not even to mention that his crusade against organised crime not only gained him more enemies in the field, but also meant he would be protected greatly.

The same man shook his head, but he didn't look annoyed to be correcting him. "The president."

Every conversation, whisper and exchange of looks stopped, a deafening silence looming over their heads.

Robert leaned forward, blinking as he looked to the side. He was sure that he had heard the man wrong but the fact that every other person in the room had gone quiet suggested otherwise. "You want to assassinate the president of the United States?"

There was a wave of mutters and hushed comments as the man nodded. "What other way to show the world that mutants are dangerous? If they kill the _beloved _president, I bet that not just America, but the entire world would turn against them."

Another voice, a hidden face in the crowd, protested, "Kennedy hasn't spoken up for mutants. The entire government didn't even make a statement about them. We have no way of knowing what their stance is on the matter."

Eli thought carefully, and was the next to speak up, causing Robert to look up at him. "No, he hasn't. But he hasn't spoken up against them either. We already know that Kennedy supports the African-American movements, no matter how careful and political he tries to be about it. He's sent troops to defend them in freedom rides and is backing the Voting Rights Act. And Robert—"

"God, I hate to share the name with that prick," Robert commented, interrupting him and causing a short wave of laughter.

Eli chuckled along and waited for the others to quiet down before he continued. "And the Attorney General agrees with his brother. Who's to say that they won't take it a step further, whether they're backed to a corner or by their own free will, and voice support for the mutants?"

"I see what you mean…" Robert nodded to himself, as the rest of the room launched into their own discussions over the suggestion. "Good idea. Really, I mean it. And I think I got just the mutant to be our patsy. Even a slow death is too good for my sister. We can throw that bitch under the train and let her rot in prison."

"No. Your sister would not do."

The sudden shake of Eli's head surprised Robert and he frowned, offering him a challenging look. "Why?"

"You said her power is water manipulation, did you not?" At Eli's question, Robert slowly nodded, still unsure as to where his friend's words were headed. "What is she gonna do, drown him? If she even uses her powers in the first place, because quite frankly, you hadn't even managed to coax out a demonstration."

Eli continued to frown at his second in command until his eyes widened in realisation and he looked down at the table in front of him. "No… No, you're right," he finally admitted, biting his lip. "Not exactly the high profile we're going for." He was displeased at the revelation, and angry for allowing himself to momentarily become so excited.

"But…" Eli continued, smiling cryptically, "that man she was with when we got her? I think I know of him. Seen him before. He's a mutant by the name of Magneto."

Robert's laughter boomed throughout the room and even though the people surrounding them have only been listening to snippets of the conversation, they joined in when he asked, "What kind of name is Magneto?"

Eli didn't laugh along but continued smiling mysteriously, simply adding, "Name of a mutant who can manipulate metal."

Robert's laughter faded as he drank the new information in, the gears turning in his head. He looked down, a fingernail between his teeth and then lowered that hand on the table, clenching it into a fist. He looked up at Eli and smirked. "Metal… Like bullets?" Eli returned the look, nodding slowly. Robert licked his lips and returned his gaze to his hands. "You know, Eli, one day you're going to tell me how you know all that."

Eli smiled wider and his eyes darkened – both actions disappearing when Robert shot him a glance through the corners of his eyes. "One day."

"All right, you bastards," Robert addressed the large group in the room, half of which were still laughing and the rest slowly returning to their own topics of conversation, the new idea growing in their heads. "We're going after the mutant brothers tomorrow, so get the hell outta here. Get a good night's sleep because I want you upstairs at the crack of dawn!" He laughed and the people began to disperse as told. Robert turned to Eli and lowering his voice, asked, "You're alright with looking after our guest while I'm gone?"

Eli rolled his shoulders with a frown. "And miss out on the fun?"

"You're the only man I can trust," the younger man insisted.

Despite his previous words of protest, Eli nodded without hesitation, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I know. Of course, I'll stay." Robert nodded to himself and turned back to face the front, his eyes narrowing. Eli leaned closer and smirked. "You know, some people believe that John Kennedy is actually a mutant himself."

Robert laughed, Eli's words shaking him out of his thoughts. "Well, if he is then we'll shoot two birds with one stone."

"Glad to see you so optimistic."

Instead of replying with a witty response, Robert surprised Eli by inclining his head towards the guy who had suggested assassinating Kennedy in the first place, the man, barely older than Robert himself, hanging around the pool table as others moved past him. "You recognise him?"

Robert followed his gaze and shook his head. "No. Why, you know him?"

"No, I don't. That's the problem." Robert sat up and craned his neck to yell, "Hey, you!"

The man in question looked up, pointing to himself. "Me?" When Robert nodded, the man put down the pool ball he had been rolling in his hands – a red number 3 – and approached the other two men, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You're new here, aren't you?" Robert asked when the man stood at the side of the table, scanning him from head to toe to commit him to memory. He had a face that wouldn't make him look twice if he passed him on the street which was both good and bad. "When did you join?"

"Two week ago, sir."

Robert resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way the man addressed him. His father was 'sir', not him. This wasn't the army or the marines, nobody had to talk to him in such a formal way, but for some reason, most continued to even when he would correct them. So after a while, he decided not to bother. Instead, he trained the man with a curious look. "Why didn't you speak up before?"

The man shrugged, "The spotlight's not really my thing, sir."

"Looked to me like that changed tonight," Robert said, sensing that the man was lying.

"I saw the opportunity and I took it, I guess."

"Did you now…" Robert leaned back and surveyed him, secretly a little pleased. Many of the men that walked the streets under his cause liked to be heard. It was rare to come across someone who didn't shout their opinions at the top of their lungs. Even if the guy secretly wanted centre stage, Robert still appreciated his restraint. "What's your name?"

"Alek James Hidell," the man introduced himself with a tilt of his chin.

Robert chuckled and exchanged a look with Eli who had a smirk pulling at his lips. "All right, Alek," he nodded and turned to face him again. "You got a real name?"

The man looked surprised at having been caught but then nodded, a small smile spreading on his face. "Oswald."

"Did you tell anyone that you joined us, Oswald?"

He shook his head at Robert's question. "Not a soul."

"Good," Robert nodded, "Keep it that way. When you come here, don't tell anyone where you're going."

Oswald agreed eagerly, "Yes, sir."

Robert smiled at the man, a small, genuine gesture. "I think you'll do well here." He sat up and sent him a serious look, "But that means I'm placing a lot of faith in you. Don't disappoint me."

"Never," Oswald swore, and Robert saw no signs of a lie. He nodded again and then motioned towards the door, dismissing him. Oswald gave him a mock salute – Robert had a distinct suspicion that the glimpse of metal on one of the man's fingers was a Marine Corps ring – and left the room, this time with a slight bounce to his step.

"You trust him?" Eli asked, eyeing the man warily as he disappeared behind the door.

Robert glanced at his friend and cocked an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

Eli shifted his weight on his feet, shrugging. "Not jealous," he denied. "This is big, that's all."

Robert shook his head, dropping the smile, his expression serious again. "You're wrong, it's not even that. All it is for now, is a _plan._ This does have the potential to be big, but we have to do this right. One wrong move and our whole operation is ashes." For a moment he was silent, his fingers tapping on the table surface. "We keep my sister alive… For now." Eli glanced at him with a mixed look but Robert didn't notice. "There might still be use for that whore."

Eli turned to face the front, his eyebrows pulled together and Robert turned to him. His expression remained the same, but his eyes betrayed his excitement, one that made his grey irises almost silvery with light when Eli finally glanced down at him.

"If you're right and that Magneto guy can manipulate metal, then all we have to do is have him at the scene. We can bring Nadia - have her be our very own 'damsel in distress'. If a bullet kills the president and a mutant who can manipulate it seen nearby…. Well, people are smart enough to connect the two and the authorities are stupid enough to do just that and not question it."

Eli looked uncomfortable. "You do realise this will take _months _ to plan. If not a year."

Robert laughed, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head and resting his feet on the table. "Oh, we have time, Eli. I am a very patient man."

* * *

**A/N: A/N: Okay, so I'm juggling a very important political/historical event in this chapter. But I got the idea after I found out what Magneto's cause of imprisonment was in 'Days of Future Past' and I just thought it would be interesting to put this twist, regardless whether in the end they succeed or not, as it would show how far the ULCISCOR would go. How far Robert would go (he has a thing for long speeches, huh). Also, to note Eli's statements, I don't mean for him to come off as racist. He was simply stating his interpretation of the facts when he was talking about Kennedy's involvement with the Civil Rights Movement.  
Obviously, I don't own the historically recognised names (they're, you know, part of history).  
Thoughts? I'd love to know what you guys think of Robert and his group, because the way I planned it, this fic is looking to be 11-12 chapters in total which means they don't have many scenes left.**


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